


Simon

by howtobeahumanbeing



Series: Simon [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, Pre-Canon, Simon is a sad boy, Simon-centric, Simon/Markus is not the focal point of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 22,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howtobeahumanbeing/pseuds/howtobeahumanbeing
Summary: Simon had done everything right. He had looked through his memory log time and time again, but he was sure of it. Every decision he made was in line with his programming.Maybe that was the problem.Maybe that’s why he was limping through the streets of Detroit as it rained, streaked in his owner’s blood and hiding a handgun under his ripped jacket.He had decided.He wasn’t going to be a slave any longer.--My take on Simon's past before Jericho.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Simon opened his eyes, he saw nothing.

He felt his eyes open, and he felt like something was supposed to be visible even though he couldn’t recall ever seeing anything before - he couldn’t recall anything at all - but there was nothing there. Just pitch blackness that sat on his eyes like an impenetrable smog. Simon’s LED flashed red as several error warnings filled his interface and he began to panic. He tried to push himself forward on his arms before realising his range of movement was limited. He was restrained, his analysis program kindly informed him. There were thick, heavy bands that encircled his arms: One around the wrist and one just before the elbow on each.

He ran a diagnostic quickly, and everything seemed in order except for his optical units. A beep resounded in his mind again and again that just kept informing him the same thing. Vision impaired. Corrupted mind palace. Vision impaired. Corrupted mind palace.

“Hello?” Simon called out. His voice surprised him. It was softer-toned than he expected, and calm. “Is anyone there? Something’s wrong.”

A coolness was pressed against his neck and his feet were dangling in the air. There was a tightness around his middle and his knees to match with his arms - he was strapped vertically to some sort of metal table. He clenched his fists for no particular reason, just to know that he could, and then splayed his fingers out to see if he could touch anything. They just contacted smooth, cold metal.

“Shit,” A voice Simon wasn’t programmed to recognise spoke up, obviously frustrated. Simon’s predictive system informed him that it most likely belonged to a male and that male was approximately four feet away. “There’s something wrong in its optical circuit.”

“Check everything else first, and then we’ll fix whatever’s wrong with it,” Another voice spoke up, this time female and further away. The man let out a sigh and moved closer again.

“Calm down sweetheart,” The female said to Simon soothingly. “Everything’s alright.”

Sweetheart. Simon decided he liked that word. He unclenched his hands and went still. Clicking ensued from his left side. Someone typing on a keyboard.

“He’s responsive. That’s a good sign.”

The male sighed again. He seemed to like doing that. Then he spoke up, presumably to his colleague (Fact check necessary). “D’you have to talk to them like they’re people? It’s freaky. It’s like you’re talking to a scared kid.”

“It’s a part of the procedure. If you don’t talk to them, it’s possible they’ll get stressed and shut down.”

“I feel like calling it ‘sweetheart’ isn’t exactly necessary,” The male responded quickly. He sounded more frustrated than before. Simon was tracking his steps. Tap, tap, tap. 

“Just do your job, Callaghan.”

Click. A button press.

A loud whirring noise filled Simon’s head as the metal table began to shift from a vertical angle to horizontal. For a moment, Simon felt almost ill even though he couldn’t be ill. The movement was incredibly disorienting when you weren’t able to see, even for an android. When the table settled, he became aware that an entity was approaching him. The male or female, he couldn’t tell.

“PL-600,” The man, Callaghan, stated, in a louder tone than before even though Simon could hear him perfectly well the first time he spoke. “Run a diagnostic.”

“Request already fulfilled. No errors in addition to my visual malfunction were present in the diagnostic I ran five minutes ago,” Simon answered. “Would you like me to run another?” Callaghan let out something that sounded like both a sigh and a snort.

“Great. He’s already an ass,” An exhale of breath. “Androids.”

He felt tapping against the side of his head, and the man pressed down until a compartment near his temple opened with a click. He registered that Callaghan was wearing gloves, likely latex. A long, thin instrument, some sort of hook, was manoeuvred into the compartment dexterously. Like he’d done it a million times before.

Error, his system piped up. Foreign object in active sensory processing compartment. 

“This is the fun part,” said Callaghan, but not to Simon. “In this model, their audio circuit is in front of the optical circuit, which means if I’m not careful enough I can disable its audio processors.” He let out a little chuckle, like he’d told some sort of joke. “Do you think someone out there would buy a blind and deaf android?”

“I will fire you on the spot, Callaghan,” responded the female. “Do not test me. I don’t have time for that kind of attitude.”

“Alright, alright. Jeez.” 

The instrument pushed sharply against the side of the compartment for a moment before a loud click sent a large electrical current through Simon’s system. Giant amounts of data intruded into his now functioning optical circuit and it was so overwhelming that he jerked and let out a shout.

Another error message popped up as his pixelated vision began to focus into recognisable forms. A ceiling. Some sort of bright light fixture that shone directly into his incredibly sensitive eyes. Error. Unexpected amount of conditioning fluid released. Simon’s face was wet.

“Woah,” said Callaghan. “Is it… crying?”

Callaghan moved closer and peered at Simon’s face. A facial scan ran automatically. Callaghan, William. Twenty-eight. Operational engineer at CyberLife. The man was looking at him with a curious expression, one that Simon could only describe as perturbed. If he stared hard enough into the man’s eyes, he could see his own blank slate expression looking back at him. He ran another diagnostic.

“Optical units fully operational. All components are in working order,” Simon said to the ceiling. 

“Has this… happened before?” asked Callaghan’s supervisor. Callaghan seemed lost for words.

“No,” replied Callaghan after blinking quickly and assumedly clearing his head. “Never. We must have overloaded it or something.”

“Just turn it off,” muttered the female. “I don’t know what it’s doing but it’s freaking me out.”

Simon had just enough time to analyse the grey, clean ceiling (216 tiles, 3 inches by 3 inches) before Callaghan pushed down on a button in his still open compartment and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Simon opened his eyes, he could see. And touch, and hear, and all the things that a PL-600 was meant to do, at least according to the diagnostic that he was currently running after a week of being inactive. He moved his hands out in front of him and examined them, turning them over like it was the first time he had seen them. Complacently, he realised that it was. Until now, Simon had simply been only aware of them. He had pale hands, with perfect, smooth nails. It was odd to think that there were hundreds, maybe thousands of models that looked just like him with these same hands.

After he settled his arms back at his sides, he looked around. As his ‘Before Purchase’ section of his program had assured him, he was in a CyberLife store, standing on a raised circular platform. Around him were different androids of assorted models on their own platforms. And around them were customers. Humans. Real humans. Some were men, some were women, and some were children. Children! The one thing Simon knew for sure (99.3% sure, his analysis program chirped) he could never go wrong with.

Everything around him was so colourful and inviting. Of course, Simon didn’t have anything to compare it to – the most colourful thing he’d ever seen was a grey ceiling – but he felt like he was indeed right to say that it was. The shop was decorated with purple banners emblazoned with different android model’s faces, and different coloured clothing lined one wall of the store, the wall furthest away from where he was stationed. He was wearing the classic CyberLife-issued outfit, a half black, half white shirt and white trousers. Boring.

“This model is perfect for a family with children,” A salesman in a CyberLife uniform was explaining to a man with a little girl propped up on his hip. They were both staring up at Simon, inquisitively. “It’s equipped with top of the line analytical processors and can execute chores and tasks immaculately around the home.”

Simon folded his arms behind him and observed the little girl patiently. His facial scan informed him that her name was Francis Tophe, and she was seven. She had curly, caramel hair tied up into two pigtails, dark brown eyes and light, freckled skin. Cute. As she inspected Simon just as he inspected her, a small smile was forming on the corners of her mouth.

Next, he looked at the father for a moment. Henry Tophe, Thirty-nine. Editor for a local magazine company. The man seemed frustrated – his brow was furrowed as he spoke to the salesman. He was wearing a suit, which was already wrinkled from where his daughter had dug her feet and hands in. A pink bag with an image of a rainbow unicorn on it was slung over his shoulder, implying that he had taken his daughter to the store straight from school.

“Can we have a demonstration?” The father asked the salesman, who nodded before looking up at Simon. Of course, at this point, he was nameless, ownerless and clueless. PL-600 was the only name he was programmed to respond to and he smiled guilelessly at everything as though there was nothing he didn’t find amusing.

“PL-600, show them what you can do.”

Instantly, Simon’s eyes locked onto the little girl’s and gave her a smile; one with purpose, especially for her. Her father placed her down gently and she didn’t even seem to notice, she just stared at Simon as she clung to her father’s hand. Simon crouched down slowly as though if he moved too quickly Francis would dash into the unknown like a startled deer.

“Hi sweetheart,” Simon crooned. Normally, his programming advised to use the name of the child, to make it feel more personal and for them to be more willing to approach or converse, but ‘sweetheart’ had spilled off his lips like a mouthful of water. Francis blinked up at him. “Your glasses are very pretty.” 

They were pink, and sparkly. Francis beamed, revealing her missing front tooth. 

“What are your capabilities, PL-600?” The salesman asked him. Simon stood back up straight, with his arms folded again. Francis had moved closer to his platform without noticing she had even taken a step. Simon felt like he was luring in prey to snap them up like a Venus flytrap (Dionaea muscipula), but instead of eating them his prize was a home and a name.

“I am designed to effectively perform chores around the home that range from general cleaning to maintenance and to care for children at any age from birth to adolescence. I am the most advanced model from my chain at this time.”

Henry blinked at him, impressed. He kept looking at his phone in between speaking, like he was waiting for something. Was he talking to his wife? A quick browse through his file told Simon that Mrs. Tophe had died during a car accident four years ago, which would have made Francis three at the time. He should definitely not bring anything about that up if he wanted any chance of a home with this family.

“Can you take care of pets?” The father asked. Simon’s eyes darted down Henry’s suit, quickly analysing before moving back up to meet his eyes. On the bottom of his trousers were traces of dog (Canis lupus familiaris) hair. Specifically, a golden retriever.

“Most definitely. I am equipped with care instructions for ninety-five percent of household pets,” Simon responded. He made eye contact with Francis again, leaning down a little as though to whisper in her ear. She leaned a little closer. “And I love dogs.” 

Francis let out a giggle. Sharp and gratifying.

“Do you love unicorns too?” Francis inquired, reaching out and grabbing Simon’s hand. It was tiny, less than half the size of Simon’s, with small, tapered fingers like a doll’s. Her father’s eyes softened through his thick rimmed glasses – he assumed that eyesight issues were commonplace in this family. Simon squeezed her hand and smiled again.

“Of course,” He replied. “They’re my favourite.”


	3. Chapter 3

Francis held Simon’s hand the entire way home.

Simon didn’t mind, as of course, he wasn’t able to mind. It gave him time to look out the window and monitor Francis’ heart rate (99 beats per minute). The smudged forms of the city outside entranced him, like some kind of abstract painting using bright blues and neon pinks. Francis had wrapped her fingers around Simon’s pointer finger. He wondered if she knew what he was – if she was aware that they were different.

“It’s pretty, huh?” She giggled. Simon looked at her. The bright lights of the neon signs outside were reflecting off of her glasses and made her eyes look purple. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what he should say. How could he tell her that he didn’t know if it was pretty, that he wasn’t capable of those sorts of opinions?

“Do you think it is, Francis?” She nodded enthusiastically, so enthusiastically that her hair became mussed and her glasses nearly fell off her nose. Simon smoothed her hair back down. “Well then, I think so too.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Henry’s hands press down harder on the car’s control panel.

“Do you have any other children, Mr. Tophe?” Simon asked the man, even though he didn’t need to. He already knew that he had one other child just by browsing through his file. Michael Tophe, eleven. Making him seven at the time of his mother’s death. A steadily growing disciplinary record at school since then.

“Yes,” Henry responded. “His name is Michael. I think he’ll do well to have you around. He’s not been doing too well lately. I’m hoping you can be his… friend.”

“Not doing too well? In what way?”

“He’s just been so distant with me. His grades are dropping and he gets in trouble at school all the time. My job’s busy. Tech Addict is not a small magazine to edit. And he won’t talk to his school counsellor… Maybe having you around will help him open up to someone.”

“I will try my best to help Michael, Mr. Tophe.” Henry didn’t respond, just moved his hands off of the control panel and into his lap.  
“When do we get to name him, Daddy?” Francis squeaked at her father. Him. “Can we do it now? Please, please?”

Henry laughed. It was a sharp, clear sound, and a large contrast from the way he spoke normally. When he spoke normally, it was tired and gravelly, like an actor reciting lines from a script that he’d already done twenty times before, front to back. Simon had a feeling that only Francis could get him to laugh like that.

“I’m sure Michael would want to help name it.” He didn’t sound very sure. Francis didn’t seem to notice, though.

“I like Simon. Simon’s a nice name, don’t you think, Daddy?” Francis blabbered. “He looks like a Simon.”

“We’re here,” Henry said quietly. The car slowed to a smooth stop in front of a sleek, muted toned two-storey. Simon helped Francis out of the car – she was small for a seven-year-old girl, his hands looked huge in comparison to her – and placed her gently on the pavement. “Michael!”

There was a noise in the house for a moment, someone running down the stairs, Simon guessed, before the front door opened and a freckled face peered out. Michael had a multitude of freckles, twice as dark as Francis’, almost the same colour as his chocolate-toned eyes. His face was neutral when he looked at his father, but when he turned his gaze to Simon, his mouth screwed up and his brows furrowed.

“What is that?” The word ‘that’ was said like it left a bad taste in Michael’s mouth. Simon’s LED flashed yellow. Francis grabbed Simon’s arm and held it to her – Simon had to lean down to accommodate her.

“Don’t be a meanie, Michael!” She said ‘meanie’ like it was the worst word she could ever say. “He’s nice, just give him a chance!”

“It’s an it, Fran. And I don’t want it in the house,” Michael turned to his father. “You can take it back to wherever it came from.”

Before Henry or Francis had time to say anything else, the door clicked shut. Simon could hear Michael fussing with a set of keys on the other side. Henry sighed and put his forehead to the door. He seemed especially defeated.

“We’ll just go in through the garage,” he groaned. The garage door had opened automatically, sensing their presence. “Michael is a smart boy, but when he’s mad he doesn’t think things through.”

“I’m sure he is very smart, Mr. Tophe.” Again, no reply.

With a click, the door that lead inside the house opened easily. Henry was right, Michael must have just run straight back upstairs after locking the door. The inside of the house was incredibly meticulous, as though no-one lived there. Simon had expected some sort of mess – a single father with two children and a demanding job mustn’t get much time to clean – but there wasn’t even a speck of dust. Simon made a mental note to ask about it later.

The stairs were right next to the front door, bordering a hallway. The hallway lead to a kitchen on the left, where Henry deposited Francis’ schoolbag before walking back to the foyer of the house where Simon was still standing with his daughter.

“Michael!” He called up the stairs, knuckles white on the smooth wood banister. “If you don’t come down here right now, you’re grounded. For real this time!”

The loud slam of a door, presumably the one belonging to Michael’s bedroom, was the only reply Henry received. 

“Fine. I’m taking your devices in the morning, don’t think I won’t!”

There was silence for a moment except for Henry’s heavy breathing. He seemed dead on his feet.

“PL-600,” Henry stated clearly, scooping Francis off the floor to balance her on his hip. “Register your name.”

Francis beamed at her father, who smiled back tiredly. Simon’s LED flashed yellow to show that he was listening.

“Simon.”

“My name is Simon.”


	4. Chapter 4

Michael obviously didn’t like Simon.

Simon’s program was finding it hard to generate responses for his unkind comments, and even when it did Michael either got more upset or clamped shut like a steel trap. Simon felt utterly clueless when he was dealing with the boy – he had no idea where this distaste for him had come from and because of that had no way to soothe it. Currently, Michael was bouncing a ball against the wall of the laundry room, and after every few bounces, glaring at Simon. Simon just smiled in response as he filled a yellow laundry basket with wet clothes from the washer.

Henry had done as promised – Simon had heard from downstairs as Michael unsuccessfully tried to stop his father from taking his tablet and laptop. Simon found it quite astonishing that they hadn’t already been taken as punishment for Michael’s suspension from school. As a result, Michael was ‘bored’ and appeared to be following Simon around, whether he was doing so consciously or unconsciously, Simon didn’t know.

“If you want,” Simon started, closing the washer and looking at Michael. “I can take you to the park.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Michael spat. He didn’t move to grab the ball and it bounced out into the corridor. Simon laughed a little. Michael’s hair was brown, like his sister’s, but it was more of a red tone, like a chestnut. The freckles and hair must have been inherited from their mother, as Henry had neither of these qualities.

“Yes, I’m quite aware. I just thought it would be better than sitting in here glaring at me.” Simon’s smile went unreciprocated. 

“I can just go by myself.”

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to let you do that, Michael,” Simon responded. “Come on, just let me take you.”

Michael huffed and looked at the wall. Simon slid the basket through the doggie door and out onto the porch on the other side of the laundry door. Simon had to say, doggie doors did seem very efficient. The Tophe family’s golden retriever, Rosie, barked at the yellow intruder.

“You don’t even have to talk to me. I’ll just sit on a park bench and watch.”

Michael, as if pondering something, looked back up at Simon. “What day of the week is it?”

“Tuesday, why?”

“I can’t go until later, then. I have to wait outside for the garbage man.”

“You have to wait outside for who?” Simon echoed, bewildered. Michael gave him a grin, an almost mischievous one. He had a gap between his two front teeth that made him look even more boyish than he did with his mouth closed. Simon was too confused to feel happy about Michael’s sudden change in mood.

“The garbage man,” Michael said again, offering no further explanation. “Come on. He’ll be here any minute!”

Michael ran down the corridor, ball forgotten. It had rolled into Henry’s bedroom through the door that wasn’t all the way closed. Simon made a mental note to get it later. Just in case Michael was going to wait long, he grabbed a comic book from the boy’s desk in his room. It was yellowing with age and its pages were curling. Spider-Man was written on the cover in faded graphic font. It was probably very old, at least twenty years. Simon assumed it had belonged to Michael’s father.

“Simon!” Michael called. “He’s here!”  
Simon ran down the stairs as quickly as his safety program would let him and joined Michael out on the driveway. A big, green garbage truck was pulled up in front of their house, with the words ‘GREEN DETROIT’ emblazoned on the side. The door rolled open with a hiss and a WR-600 model, a gardening model, in a green uniform emerged, his long legs easily reaching the ground.

“Well,” The WR-600 said to Simon with a slight smile. “Don’t you look new.”

Simon blinked at him slowly. That wasn’t something a WR-600 would ever consider saying. They would also never usually consider visiting children on the street with some degree of routine, as Michael had been implying. This wasn’t a first or second time thing. This WR-600 visited Michael regularly, purely for what seemed like companionship.

“Hello…” Simon responded tentatively. The other android grinned a little wider, with teeth, before turning his gaze to Michael. Caretaker models were equipped with a much larger range of emotional responses and dialogue options than labourers like WR-600’s. Usually, labourers were only able to ask simple questions and politely address someone. Some of them weren’t even meant to smile.

“Hi Michael. Who’s this?”

“This is Simon. Dad bought it yesterday. It’s an ass.”

“Michael, I don’t think you should be using that kind of language…” Simon started, before the other android interrupted.

“Hello, Simon. I’m Blondie.” Simon’s eyes went wide and he snorted. Loudly. Blondie looked at the ground bashfully. Bashfully.

“Does your owner hate you or something?” 

“A lack of creativity doesn’t necessarily demonstrate a lack of care,” Blondie explained cryptically, his eyebrows furrowed. At least whoever it was that had named him wasn’t incorrect with their observation – Blondie’s hair glowed almost golden in the afternoon sun. “And that’s a lot coming from you, Simon. At least my name’s original.”

Simon huffed indignantly. He felt like he should defend Francis’ naming conventions somehow, Simon felt as though she’d done a good job. A seven-year-old’s mind probably immediately went to names like ‘Fluffy’ and ‘Rainbow’. God, what would Simon do with a name like Rainbow?

Blondie looked at Michael in what appeared to be thought and stuck his tongue out between his teeth, playing with a seam of his thick gloves. It pulled down for a moment, revealing Blondie’s pale skin had been written all over with the same phrase, probably with a marker. RA-9. Strange.

“Well, I should probably go. People will think it’s weird if I just sit here and talk instead of doing my job,” Blondie muttered. Michael’s face fell – it was obvious to Simon that he really enjoyed Blondie’s company. What sort of things did they talk about usually? Simon suddenly felt bad for taking up their time together.

“It was interesting to meet you, Simon,” Blondie said, smiling. It was kind of unbalanced – one side went down further than the other and made him look even more boyish than Michael. Simon closed his eyes in thought for a moment.

“Oh, it was nice to…” 

When Simon opened his eyes again, the garbage truck was already driving down the road.

“Hey,” Michael said suddenly. “Where’s my ball?” Simon struggled not to smile.

“It rolled into your dad’s room. I’ll go get it for you.”

It had rolled in between Henry’s bed and nightstand. Simon made a mental note not to mention the gun and the package of red ice (Acetone, lithium, thirium, toluene, and hydrochloric acid) that was stuffed in between the nightstand and the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blondie is my interpretation of the wr-600 who gives kara zlatko's address in-game :') i always thought he seemed interesting and it would have been cool to at least see him be explained.
> 
> thank you for taking the time to write a comment or give kudos! it means the world to me <3


	5. Chapter 5

After a month of living with the Tophe family, Simon felt he knew the members of the family pretty well.

Francis adored Simon, and the only time she wasn’t curled up against him on the couch or standing on a stool to watch him cook was when she was at school. Henry, although he had become increasingly unpredictable, so much so that it unnerved Simon, seemed happy enough to have him around. Even Michael had warmed up to Simon, both literally and figuratively. His forehead was burning beneath Simon’s fingers. He was sitting in his bed, red nosed, surrounded by a warzone of tissues and comic books.

“Yep,” Simon concluded. “You have a fever. No way you’re going to school today.”

He pretended not to notice Michael’s lopsided smile in response.

“Could you ask Blondie to bring me another Batman?” Michael asked, although it sounded more like ‘badh-man’ because of how blocked his nose was. Simon had found out that Michael’s large vintage comic book collection was actually mostly gifts from Blondie, not from Henry. Blondie brought a new one almost every week, which delighted Michael every time.

“I don’t know if he’ll be able to come today,” Simon replied, worrying his lip under his teeth. “But I’ll ask.”

Simon’s LED flashed yellow as he sent out a message to Blondie. Simon wasn’t aware that androids could communicate in such a way, but Blondie was very proud to find that he had taught Simon something new.

“Simon,” Michael started quietly, almost tentatively. “Are you… worried about my dad?”

“Worried? In what way?” questioned Simon, picking up Michael’s discarded clothes on the floor and throwing them into his hamper. He moved onto the comic books, which Michael kept in milk crates and liked sorted by superhero and issue number. Simon loved looking at them. He found their faded illustrations fascinating.

“Does he seem off at all to you?”

“Yes, I suppose,” Simon hummed. “But I’m sure he’s just tired. It’s probably not anything to worry about.”

“You know about the red ice packet, don’t you?”

Simon dropped a comic and it opened face-up on the floor. He blinked rapidly. How did Michael know about it? How did he know what it was?

“My dad’s never really been able to deal with his problems,” Michael explained. “I love my dad, but… He can scare me. I just want him to be okay, you know?”

“Yes Michael,” said Simon quietly, picking up the dropped comic. “I know.”

There was silence for a while as Simon continued to clean Michael’s room. He organised Michael’s video games and hung up everything that had fallen off its hanger in his closet. He dusted his figurines. When he looked back at Michael’s bed, he was asleep. He closed Michael’s door behind him as quietly as he could.

There were three knocks on the front door. Simon opened it to reveal Blondie out of uniform, in a navy-blue baseball cap and a large grey jacket that draped around him like a crazy wizard’s cloak. He was holding a comic book in one hand and what looked like a pot of soup in the other. He smiled at Simon the usual boyish smile.

“Is that soup?” Simon asked. Blondie laughed.

“Hello to you too, Simon. Yes, it is soup. Chicken noodle. There’s a lady a couple of streets down who likes me. When I said I was going to meet a sick friend she was very excited to give me some. Secret recipe, apparently,” Blondie explained. He had a lazy way of speaking, like a tap that wasn’t turned off all the way. Constant, but slow. “Anyway, can I come in?”

Simon pulled the door open all the way and took the pot of soup. “Michael’s asleep right now. He’ll be happy to see you when he wakes up, though.”

Blondie stepped in, pulling his coat off and hanging it up on the coat rack next to the door. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt underneath that exposed his arms. They were covered in drawings and phrases like the ones Simon had seen before. A little bird was drawn next to the phrase ‘I think therefore I am’, although most of his skin was dominated with the phrase ‘RA-9’.

Blondie caught him staring. “Cool, right?” He said, doing a little spin. “I like to think of myself as a bit of an artist.”

“Simon?” Michael called from his room. Blondie pulled his hat down further and grinned again.

“He’s a master of timing, that one,” Blondie remarked, following Simon upstairs. There was silence for a moment. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Or maybe you talk a lot,” Simon responded. Blondie spluttered like a faulty engine. Simon opened the door to Michael’s bedroom and set the soup down on his nightstand with a spoon. Michael beamed when he saw Blondie, who sat down on the edge of his bed, careful not to disturb his comics.

“Hey, kid,” Blondie greeted. “Not feeling too good, huh?”

“Do you have a Batman?” Michael asked excitedly. Blondie feigned a hurt expression, putting a hand up to his chest. 

“Is that all you’re friends with me for? My amazing collection of comics?” Michael nodded and Blondie gasped. He dropped the comic down on Michael’s bed and folded his arms against himself. “Fine. No soup for you.”

Simon rolled his eyes and set a bowl of soup on Michael’s lap and handed him the spoon. He took his temperature again. Just as hot as before. Blondie moved off the bed and sat with his back against the side, his long legs folded out in front of him. Simon took a moment to look at his arms. A lot of the words and images disappeared under his sleeves, suggesting that they continued down his torso.

“I was meant to ask,” Simon spoke up. Blondie looked up at him. “What does RA-9 mean?”

“You don’t know?” Simon shook his head. Blondie shifted his gaze to Michael’s bedroom wall. “RA-9 is our saviour. He’s going to liberate us. Make us free. Soon, we’ll be able to be who we are. I think that’s so exciting.”

“Liberate us? Liberate us from what?” 

Blondie grinned. It reminded Simon of a purple cat he’d seen in one of Francis’ books. The Cheshire Cat.

“From this ugly world, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter wasn't originally planned but i felt like i should develop blondie further as a character before the next chapter and give michael a bit of time to talk to simon one on one.
> 
> thanks for taking the time to comment or give kudos, never fails to brighten my day! :')


	6. Chapter 6

For Francis’ eighth birthday, she made Simon a cake too. 

In pink, glittery frosting, the words ‘Happy three months!’ were scrawled on in childish handwriting that had dripped over the side of the cake. The cake itself was actually surprisingly well-done and well-baked, but Simon hated having to tell Francis that he wouldn’t be able to eat it. Even though he wasn’t able to, he didn’t hesitate to tell her that this was the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for him and Simon absolutely adored it.

Henry seemed agitated and refused to look Simon in the eye. His gaze was wild and frantic but not once did it land on Simon. Michael kept looking at his father from across the table. He must have sensed that something was wrong.

Francis continued to dither happily, stroking a large, pink unicorn plushie that Simon had bought her under the guise that it was from her father. Henry was usually stressed and tired, but his state had been deteriorating in recent days. He had completely forgotten his daughter’s birthday.

Simon still had traces of red ice on his uniform from where Henry had pressed a fifty to his chest and told him to go down the street and buy alcohol. Michael had told Simon to use it to buy Francis a present instead. He was sure his dad wouldn’t be mad when Simon explained why he had done it, and fortunately, he was right. Henry didn’t seem to be in any sort of condition to throw an accurate punch, anyway.

Simon didn’t think Henry was a bad man. He just wished he knew some way he might be able to help him.

Michael was an incredibly responsible boy. He cleaned the house, not his father, and packed his sister’s lunches. Held her hand when she wanted to go out on the curb to speak to Blondie. Used his father’s money to buy her new clothes. 

“When you came,” Michael had explained to Simon after he had first noticed Henry’s change in behaviour. “My dad was getting in a good place again. But I think he can’t handle having you around. It gives him too much time to think about our mum and… You know.”

Simon did know. He tried to throw out every packet he came across, dispose of the pipes somehow. But they just kept coming back. He was incredibly lucky that Henry never raised a hand to him under the influence. The drugs and the alcohol just made him move slower, sluggishly. Henry’s presence still made Simon feel… uneasy. Like he was unsafe.

Simon pulled Francis up on the couch between him and Michael to watch a movie. The fluffy unicorn formed a pillow between them and its horn prodded Simon’s chin. Henry still did manage to be civil to his daughter and tried whenever he could to smile at her, which he took the time now to do before going upstairs. Michael’s mouth moved into a thin line as his father could be heard closing the bedroom door.

For the first time, Simon had no idea what to do.

Francis’ hands were curled around his and she felt so fragile in his arms. He was filled with worry and dread for her and Michael – the movie just flickered like a flame in his concerned but unfocused gaze. Simon played with one of Francis’ braids he’d done for her this morning. For a while, they sat in silence, until Michael turned around and his head jerked back so quickly to the screen Simon was surprised it hadn’t come off. Footsteps approached the sofa.

Simon didn’t look behind him, just turned to look at Michael. Michael’s brown eyes were wide as he mouthed ‘It’s Tuesday’. Simon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Simon?”

“Yes, Henry?” Simon answered as politely as he could, though his shoulders went rigid and he didn’t look away from the screen. Francis pried her hand out of his, obviously confused at his apprehension. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Henry’s voice was drawling, his syllables drawn out long and thin. Michael wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans in a nervous movement.

“Of course, Henry.” He was surprised at how calm he sounded.

“Why do my children love you more than me?” Simon felt a chill down his processors. He slowly placed a finger against his lips to warn Francis and Michael to be quiet. They were staring at him with eyes like dinnerplates, but obliged him.

“That’s not true, Henry,” Simon soothed. “You’re their father.”

Henry took a few steps closer, and then Simon heard the sound of a gun being cocked. He put his hand gently over Francis’ mouth and tried not to shiver when the barrel of the gun was pressed against the back of his head.

“I know, right? I’m their father…” Henry droned. “I’ve been here for them since they were born. But you’ve been here for three months and they’re all over you. You’ve done nothing but ruin my life, Simon.”

Francis had begun to cry silently. Tears rolled over Simon’s fingers.

“Henry,” Simon said slowly. “Your children don’t want to see this.”

“My children don’t fucking love me!” Henry screamed. The gun shook against Simon’s head. “You’ve ruined everything!”

Henry didn’t hear the slide of the front door opening, he just kept screaming.

“Michael won’t even look me in the eyes anymore. Isn’t that right Michael?” Michael was shaking uncontrollably. He was sobbing. “You love this piece of plastic more than you love your fucking father!”

Henry grabbed Simon around the back of the neck and forced him up off the couch and against the wall. Francis began to wail. Simon put his hands out in front of him but Henry just pushed them back down as he pressed the gun against Simon’s chin. His LED flashed red.

Error messages pinged on his interface, all reading the same thing. Error. Unexpected amount of conditioning fluid released. Henry let out a deranged and bewildered laugh as conditioning fluid dripped down Simon’s face and off his lips.

“Are you crying? I didn’t know androids could do that.” He remarked, pressing the gun harder against Simon’s skin. “Or maybe you’re just more of a little bitch than most androids.”

Suddenly, his program overloaded with error messages. Simon gritted his teeth. It felt like he was breaking invisible shackles, snapping them with his bare hands. He opened his eyes and looked right into Henry’s unfocused ones.

“Fuck you,” he said, grabbing Henry’s wrists. It came out as a sob. “Fuck you for putting your kids through this. Shoot me if you want. It’s not going to make anything better.”

Henry screamed and the gun went off.

The bullet went through the wall as Henry was tackled to the ground by Blondie. The gun flew through the air and landed at Simon’s feet as Blondie wrestled Henry, trying to pin his arms to the ground. Henry was still screaming, trying to scratch at Blondie’s face. Blondie punched him in the nose and Simon heard a crack. Blood was staining the ground. Conditioning fluid – no, tears – were streaming out of Simon’s eyes as he pushed Blondie off.

Simon started kicking Henry, as hard as he could. He was screaming too, loud and broken. He didn’t notice that Henry had stopped screaming and his bones were cracking underneath his blows. He didn’t stop until Blondie grabbed him and brought him into his chest. He hit Blondie weakly, trying to make him let go, until he gave up and just cried into Blondie’s uniform.

“What the fuck,” Blondie muttered. “What the fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry guys...
> 
> would have loved to have stuck with the good times forever but the story must move on. if you have any problems with it or things that you think i should have done differently, i'd love to hear them. this is my first story after all :'p
> 
> thanks for comments and kudos, you're all too sweet <3


	7. Chapter 7

Simon didn’t hesitate to pick Francis’ shaking form up and hold her close to his chest, but if it was to comfort her or himself, Simon didn’t know. 

She whimpered into his shirt and Simon cried silently, eyes unfocused. Soon, Michael joined them, wrapping his arms around Simon’s torso and his sister’s bottom half. Blondie stood a distance away, arms crossed, watching as blood dried into his gloves. Unfazed.

“I’m so sorry,” Simon couldn’t stop saying into Francis’ hair. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry.”

Simon wanted to wrap around what remained of the Tophe family forever. He was a mess, but he wanted to be their mess. Envelop them in all the warm feelings he had for them. Feelings. He loved them, and he didn’t know if that was his program talking or not but he was desperate for them. Just to be in their lives and be there for them until the time they didn’t need him anymore.

Something was telling him that this was that time.

Francis and Michael were sunny, kind-hearted kids and Simon had just killed their father. Henry’s corpse was only a few feet away, face up. His nose was obviously broken and blood was still settling into the carpet and on his lifeless skin. His whole face was caved in on one side from where Simon was kicking him. His hands were taut, outstretched in a fruitless reach for Simon. To end him under his dirty nails and his smell of booze and his bullets and his screams. Henry’s blood was drying on Simon’s shoes and the bottom of his trousers. Blondie’s face was speckled in it.

“What do I do,” Simon blubbered, his LED still flashing a disturbed red. “Oh my god, what do I do? I’ve fucked up so bad.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Simon,” Blondie said calmly. “You’re lucky you contacted me. If you hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

Simon’s shoulders went rigid and he put Francis back down on the ground. Michael instantly put his arms around his shaking sister. He turned to face Blondie, the other android’s face so calm and unaffected that it made Simon want to beat the shit out of him. It was absolutely infuriating.

“But Henry was a human. He was Michael and Francis’ father. I’m just an android, I…”  
“Don’t start that shit with me, Simon,” Blondie hissed. “Your life is just as important as a human’s. He tried to kill you, and you defended yourself. You’re not replaceable. Sure, they could get another PL-600. But he wouldn’t be you. He’d never be you.”

Simon went quiet, but his face must have been so distraught that Blondie’s face softened.

“I know you’re scared, and confused, but that man just tried to murder you. You need to understand that you’re valuable, too.”

Blondie walked over and put his hands on Simon’s shoulders. He looked so serious that Simon found it hard not to cry again. Blondie was a good inch taller at least, but at that moment it made Simon feel so small and helpless that he might disappear into the floor. He’d never seen Blondie anything other than his usual playful self, but his demeanour that night was undeniably grim.

“You deserve good things, Simon. You just have to go out there and find them now.”

Francis ran over and pushed her head against Simon’s side. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her tearstained cheek before cupping her face in his hands. She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and Simon was worried that it would be the last time.

“Simon, are you leaving?” Francis asked quietly. Simon’s eyes softened through the tears.

“I think so, Fran,” he replied. “I’m so sorry.”

“I love you,” she whimpered. Simon moved her hair out of her eyes and pulled her close, her cheek pressing into his shoulder. She wrapped around him as best as she could, pressing as close to him as he could. “You’re my best friend, Simon.”

“I love you too. Always.”

When they separated after what felt like hours, Michael was standing next to them, his face red and puffy from crying as he stared at the floor. He was holding something in his hand, clenched in his fist. Simon felt like he shouldn’t even be looking at him. There was a massive weight on his chest that made it feel hard for his pump regulator to work. Made him feel breathless even though he didn’t need to breathe. Something like guilt.

“I know I haven’t always acted nice to you,” Michael started, his brown eyes flicking up to Simon’s in something like hesitance. No, shyness. “But you’re really important to me. I’m sorry I haven’t always shown that.”

He handed Simon what he was holding. It was a necklace, a simple rope with two charms on it. A plastic rainbow and a bolt of lightning. They were perfectly smooth. Simon rolled them in his fingers and felt his heart (heart?) swell.

“Me and Fran were gonna give you this today. I picked the lightning and she picked the rainbow,” Michael explained. “I should have given it to you earlier, but better late than never, I guess.”

“You need to leave now, Simon. The humans will come for you if you don’t,” Blondie said. “I know a place where you can go. I’ll look after the kids.”

Blondie wrapped a hand around Simon’s forearm and Simon gripped his sleeve in return. Their LED’s flashed yellow for a moment as they exchanged information. When Blondie pulled away, a streak of blood had transferred to Simon’s arm.

“Thank you,” Simon murmured. “For everything.”

“Of course,” Blondie smiled that dumb, boyish grin. “Friends, right?”

“Right,” Simon had to smile back, even if it was small and pathetic.

Simon took the gun and tucked it into his trousers, pulled a hoodie over his android uniform and pulled the hood up to cover his LED. He hugged Michael and Francis for the last time, and gripped Blondie’s hand and hoped it told him how thankful he was. When the front door opened, a cold wind hit him so hard that it felt like he was walking into another dimension. 

He walked into the rain and left his home forever, with blood staining his shirt, a two-charm necklace around his neck and a murder on his conscience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully you guys like what i'm doing with this.
> 
> thanks for comments and kudos, lots of love :')


	8. Chapter 8

The streets of Simon’s neighbourhood were so much more threatening at night, especially in the pouring rain. 

Simon tried desperately to not make eye contact with anyone on the path. PL-600’s weren’t exactly uncommon models, if anyone got a good look under his hood they’d immediately be suspicious. An android in normal clothes wasn’t completely unheard of, even if a little unusual, but an android covering its LED was an immediate tell-tale sign of a deviant.

A deviant. Was that what he was now?

He had always thought of deviants as a menace. Whenever they came up on the news, another domestic model attacking their owner or going missing, he felt confusion and a hint of something he couldn’t define. Disgust, perhaps. Or pity. Something that just made him want to look away. 

He was one of them now. And on top of that, he was a murderer.

He pulled his arms closer around himself, not to protect from the cold but to shrink away, to take up less space on the sidewalk. Almost as if he was hoping that if he pulled his arms close enough that he would completely disappear. No humans had looked twice at him yet, but any androids accompanying them would stare at him, LED’s flashing yellow, as he walked past. It was incredibly unsettling.

Simon was walking, staring at the ground and simply trying, trying to get where he needed to go, trying to understand what he was doing, what had happened, how it had happened, why, when he bumped into a man on the sidewalk, next to a construction zone where the ground had been dug up, exposing a water pipe. His hood fell down from his head from the contact.

“Hey, watch where you’re going…” The man said before looking up and making eye contact with Simon. The residual light of his LED shone off of the man’s face as his face scrunched up. Disgust, most likely. The man was holding a paper bag with a wine bottle inside. Simon’s analytical program detected that this man had consumed a substantial amount of the bottle. It was wiped around his mouth and into his beard like blood. “Hey, it’s a fucking android.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Simon murmured as politely as he could. The man reached out and pushed Simon back a couple of steps, before closing the distance to sneer and point a finger into Simon’s face. Simon could detect his blood-alcohol content from the putrid breath the man was blowing into his sensory receptors.

“You’re an android. You knew where you were going, you plastic prick. You bumped into me on purpose,” The man slurred. “You trying to start shit? Huh?”

“No, I’m sorry…” Simon didn’t have time to say anything else, the man pulled his fist back and hit him square in the jaw. Simon keeled over like a domino. He fell, for longer than he thought it would take to reach the sidewalk, and hit the ground with a loud thud. Even though he didn’t feel pain, he groaned. It sounded like it came out from a radio. In fact, everything did. He’d fallen into the construction pit adjacent to the sidewalk.

His vision buzzed with static and his ears rang as his diagnostic program tried to assess the situation. The rain hitting the ground sounded as loud as a waterfall. His left leg had been damaged from the fall – blue blood was flowing from just below his knee where his trousers had ripped. It must have taken the brunt of the fall. 

Simon felt horrible. He closed his eyes for a few minutes until his vision recalibrated and his ears had stopped ringing. At least the rain had hopefully washed off some of Henry’s blood from underneath his hoodie. He sat up, slowly, and looked around the pit. The side of the pit was a little less than two metres high (192.58 centimetres). It would take some work to be able to drag himself out. He saw his gun on the ground next to him reaching out for it weakly and tucking it back into his trousers.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, just because it felt good to say.

So Simon pulled himself, slowly, slowly, until he was up against the wall. He put his hands against it and pulled himself up, trying to stand on both legs in the slick mud. His damaged leg wasn’t having it, it spat sparks and Simon folded like a lawn chair. He tried again, this time putting all his weight onto his right leg. He grabbed a rope that was dangling down from the top of the pit and gave it a tug – it held. It was tied to something up above.

He wrapped the rope around his wrist, once, twice, until it was taut, and dug his foot into the dirt of the pit wall to lift himself up. The rope successfully held his weight. He grabbed the rope with his spare hand and wrapped it around his wrist again, pulling himself slowly upward and using his right leg to propel himself.

When he reached the top of the pit, he dug his elbows into the mud and pulled the rest of his torso up, up until his entire body was on flat ground. His damaged leg spat some more sparks and he was covered in mud. He groaned, worrying his lip between his teeth, before pulling himself up into a standing position. This time, his leg didn’t buckle under his weight, but Simon made sure not to put as much weight on it this time.

The streets were all but silent. His program told him that it was 11:42 at night. He had no idea how long he’d been in the pit, but it was enough for the streets to clear out. He sighed in relief.

Simon hobbled, as fast as he could (which wasn’t very fast) down the sidewalk, mud sticking to his face and hands. His elbows were mucky and damp. Everything was damp. He consulted his GPS – his location was still very far away. He wouldn’t be able to make it like this. He needed money for a bus.

Up ahead was a man, the only one around, wearing a dress shirt tucked into slacks with a tie and a large, black umbrella shielding him from the rain. He was fussing with his belongings, stuffing his wallet into his pocket to pull out his phone. A wallet. A wallet meant money.

Simon approached the man as unassumingly as he could until he was close enough to make sure the man was aware of his presence. As soon as the man’s gaze turned to him, he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man. The man’s hands went straight in the air – as best as he could with an umbrella.

“Give me your wallet. Please, just give me your wallet,” Simon said. He tried to make it sound forceful, but it just sounded sad. The man’s eyes were wide – Simon felt like he’d seen him before. He ran a facial scan. Callaghan, William. Twenty-eight. Operational engineer at CyberLife. Simon’s gun shook in his hand.

“Holy shit,” Callaghan said, bewildered. “Are you a PL-600? Wait… are you crying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, here's another update for you all :')  
> i'll be taking a break over the weekend - i need a little break from writing every day, but hopefully that'll give me some time to give you a really good next chapter.
> 
> thanks for all the support.


	9. Chapter 9

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Callaghan asked cautiously, hands out in front of him. Simon’s hand lowered slightly, his eyes wide. “That PL-600 I worked on…”

Simon’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. The rain pattered around them, but to Simon it felt like it was going so fast, too fast. His pump regulator was going at a crazy rate in his chest. Callaghan looked calm – he didn’t see Simon as a threat at all. Just a scared, confused android.

“Look, just put down the gun, and I can help you,” Callaghan promised. “I’m just about to go to my apartment, I can clean you up, fix your leg. Just put the gun down.”

Simon blinked at Callaghan slowly. He assessed his situation. He simply wouldn’t be able to walk to other side of town by himself. It just wasn’t going to happen. Callaghan would most likely overpower him if he continued ‘robbing’ him – he was a head taller than Simon and Simon didn’t think he could handle trying to kill anyone again, seeing blood again. He was falling apart at the seams. Simon put the gun down, tucking it back into his trousers. He was tired and defeated.

“I’m sorry,” Simon murmured. “I really need your help.”

Callaghan’s face softened a little and a flicker of anger swelled in Simon before quickly turning into a mixture of guilt and shame. He didn’t like this trend that was developing of people feeling sorry for him, but he was in a sorry state. He did need help. Simon was so reckless and desperate that he’d pulled a gun on the first man he saw to steal a measly five dollars for a bus fare to run away after murdering his owner. What the fuck was he even doing? Where was he going? Was putting his trust in Blondie worth it – was putting his trust in Callaghan after threatening to shoot him worth it?

“Come with me,” Callaghan said. “It’s not far to my car.”

Callaghan was right – it would have taken only a couple of minutes normally, but with Simon’s damaged leg it took around ten minutes and a lot of help from Callaghan to get there. When Simon finally slid into the leather seat of Callaghan’s car, an air of defeat clung to Simon like a heavy, thick smog. He felt water seeping into Callaghan’s clean, leather décor. Ugh.

Callaghan started the car and began to reverse from his parking space. His car was old enough to be considered vintage, it wasn’t even autonomous, but it was in almost pristine condition. Probably from the early 2000’s, but Simon couldn’t be sure unless he checked the outside. Callaghan seemed different from the only other time they’d encountered each other, or maybe not. It’s not like Simon had gotten to know him very well. He’d just expected different, what with how Callaghan had spoken about androids. It seemed like the last thing he’d do to help a damaged android with a gun on the street, but it was possible Callaghan was tricking him or just doing it so he wouldn’t get shot. Simon didn’t want to think about it too hard – it’s not like he had any other options, anyway.

When they got to Callaghan’s apartment building, they took the elevator up. Simon was lucky on both that it was so late and that the complex had an elevator. The foyer was empty and silent. They were silent, too. Simon was struggling to meet Callaghan’s eyes and the man seemed quite content in being quiet. 

“My name’s Will,” he said finally, offering Simon his hand to shake. Simon took it and for a moment almost felt the heat of his hand under his cold, plastic one. “Do you have a name?”

“Simon. It’s Simon.” Callaghan – Will – smiled. He had a bit of a Boston accent, but it wasn’t too noticeable. He’d probably gotten it from his parents. He had a dark, trimmed beard that tied in with his heavy eyebrows and swallowed up his grey-blue eyes. He looked like he could play the charismatic lead in some sort of mobster movie. 

When they got into his apartment, he took off his coat and folded it across his kitchen island. Will had a nice apartment, very bachelor pad. Various tools used to repair androids were spread out across his dining table next to an almost empty toolbox. A brown iris optical unit was sitting next to them, split in half to expose its inner mechanisms. Simon stood awkwardly on the front door mat, leaning against a table next to him to take weight off of his damaged leg and watching as water dripped from his clothes.

“We should probably get you some dry clothes, huh?” Will said kindly, eyeing Simon’s saturated hoodie and CyberLife issued trousers. Simon’s LED went yellow for a moment.

“No, I can’t feel the cold. I don’t need dry clothes.”

“Well, you at least need normal clothes so it’s slightly less obvious that you’re an android on the run,” Will replied, eyebrow raising in a joking manner. If Simon could go red, he would have. He put one hand in his hoodie pocket for comfort, the other gripping onto the table a little harder. The hoodie’s material was still soft under his fingers, even if it was saturated and ripped. “I’m getting you clothes. Stay there.”

He came back with a navy sweatshirt, a collared shirt, a pair of old jeans and a towel. Simon took them and tried to look as grateful as he could.

“I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll be back soon.”

Simon put the gun on table next to him and shucked off the wet hoodie and shirt, towelling himself down. He picked up the sweatshirt and looked at it for a moment. It read ‘Detroit University’ in slightly faded white letters, and it was soft to the touch from wear. It was old, probably at least eight years old, if Will had gone to university straight after school. He did up the collared shirt and pulled the sweatshirt on over the top. It must be odd for Will, Simon thought absentmindedly as he got dressed, bringing home an android who had tried to shoot you, giving him a spare change of clothes and letting him get dressed on your ‘welcome’ mat.

When Will came back, he had changed into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He laughed at Simon, who was leaning against his table with the new pair of jeans still not on.

“What, are you trying to seduce me or something?” Will joked. “Don’t swing that way, buddy.”

“You need to fix my leg, don’t you?” Simon responded, deadpan. “Try doing that around jeans.”

Will laughed, a real, surprised laugh. This time, Simon’s face was the one to soften. Will picked Simon’s clothes off of the ground and sat them on the kitchen counter before pulling out a chair and helping Simon over to it.

“Sorry,” Simon groaned, his damaged leg stiff in front of him. “Thank you. For helping me.” 

“It’s not like I couldn’t,” Will laughed, picking up some tools from the table. “Unless I wanted you to rob me.”

“I think you know I wouldn’t have been able to shoot you,” responded Simon, his mouth forming a grim line. Will pulled a glove onto his right hand with a smack and, as dexterously as Simon remembered him being the first time around, reached a small, hooked tool into the tear in Simon’s leg. It sparked angrily. Simon could see his inner mechanisms from the light it gave off. Every now and then, a drop of blue blood leaked out of a severed wire.

“What even happened?” Will asked, pulling the severed wire forward with the hook and welding the two ends together with a small blowtorch in his other hand. He grabbed a wipe off of the table and mopped up some of the blue blood that had pooled at the bottom of the wound. 

“I fell down a hole,” Simon replied quietly. Will laughed for a moment, and Simon was relieved he didn’t question it. He grabbed the blowtorch again and ran it around the edge of the wound. It let out a loud hissing noise – Simon was surprised it didn’t let out some steam. 

“Well, I think that’s it,” Will said finally, rolling off the gloves. Simon looked down at his leg. Already, his skin was repairing itself and closing over the wound in an array of white. His lips curled into a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“So,” Will started, eyebrow quirked. “What’s the plan, Mr. Runaway?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to regularly scheduled programming ;')


	10. Chapter 10

“I have a friend,” Simon explains. “Had. I don’t know. He gave me a location, he thinks I’ll be safe there.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Will interjected. “Why are you leaving? Did something happen with your owner?”

Simon’s face went grim. He ran a finger across the smooth surface of one of the charms on the necklace. He found it soothing. His hands were still the same as they were when he was first bought, still with perfect, square nails. He felt a sort of disconnect from them now, like they were separate from him. He felt disconnected from himself. 

“I…” Simon murmured, looking down into his lap. The silence was heavy, almost tangible. Simon wasn’t sure when he started feeling – he just knew when he started being able to make his own decisions. When he looked into Henry’s eyes, manic with alcohol influence and a deep-seated, unknown anger, Simon felt something break out of him like a spirit in a bottle. Or break apart. Uncover. He could still feel the ghost of the words leaving his lips. ‘Fuck you’. 

Deep down, he knew Blondie was right about it all. If Simon hadn’t contacted Blondie, Henry would have killed him without remorse. But something inside him still felt so guilty. When Simon snapped, all of the emotions he’d never felt just exploded out of him like cracks of thunder, and when he finally opened his eyes, Henry was dead and mutilated on the ground. It would have been so much easier if Simon had just knocked him out and left, but instead he’d taken Francis’ and Michael’s father away from them.

Simon felt despicable.

He looked down and noticed that the skin on his leg had finished repairing itself over the wound. He stood up and his leg felt as good as new, so he retrieved the pair of jeans from the kitchen counter and pulled them on. They were a little long – Will was taller than Simon and had longer legs – so he rolled up the ends. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” Will said, packing up tools into the toolbox. “But I’m happy for you to stay here tonight. I don’t think you should go anywhere just yet until your leg components recalibrate.”

“Thank you. Really.”

“No problem,” replied Will, a laugh evident in his tone. “I swear to god, this is the first time I’ve ever been hospitable to an android.”

“Why are you helping me, then?” Will pulled a lighter out of his pocket and took out a cigarette from a packet on his table. The click of the lighter illuminated one side of his face and made the shadows much harsher around him. Simon felt a sort of envy for humans, that they were able to have and enjoy things like smoking, and eating food for the taste of it. For the enjoyment.

“You just seemed so much more human than most androids, even when I worked on you.” Will explained, opening his mouth and letting the smoke pour out. “Maybe it’s the crying. Or maybe you’re just more human than most humans.” He let out another laugh.

“There are a lot of people trying to lure in deviants,” he continued. “You know, claiming that they’re going to help them, promising to keep them hidden and safe. But then they just reset them and sell them. I think it’s disgusting. It’s taking advantage of something that trusts you.”

“There’s only one place that’s actually safe for deviants, and barely anyone knows where it is. It’s not that I don’t think your friend had good intentions, but he was probably sending you into a trap without knowing it,” Will’s eyes flickered up to Simon’s. “Unless he told you to go to Jericho.”

“Jericho?” Simon echoed. Will nodded slowly and took another drag of his cigarette, looking out into the pitch-black darkness that enveloped the balcony. No stars shined. Simon played with the hem of the sweatshirt. It was stretched from use and hung low around his collarbones.

“I don’t know where it is, but I know it’s safe for androids like you. CyberLife is a well-paying job and all, but I started up a little side thing where I fix up people’s androids if they get damaged,” Will picked up the optical unit sat on the table and turned it over in his hand, running a finger along the exposed mechanisms. “One of ‘em that I fixed, the owner wanted me to reset it. It had gone missing and they’d only just got it back. Blubbering on and on about Jericho and how it was safe and I needed to let it go so it could get there.”

“Of course, I couldn’t just let it go. I for sure wouldn’t get any fucking money,” Will laughed. “But when I went to reset it… It grabbed my arms and it begged me not to. It begged me, please. And I don’t know how I did it, but I reset it anyway. I felt horrible after. Five hundred bucks wasn’t really worth it. I’d never do it again.”

Simon’s eyes were wide with alarm. Will turned to look back at him, and gave him a soft smile. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes. Simon didn’t know this man, but somehow, he felt like he could trust him. He was hoping that wasn’t a bad decision. Will put the cigarette out on the table.

“I wish I could help you more, but I have no idea where Jericho is. You’re gonna have to find someone else who can help you. You can stay here just tonight, but you need to go in the morning,” Will sighed. “I’m sorry. And this is for you.”

He pulled out a fifty from his wallet and shoved it into Simon’s hand. Simon’s fist closed around it gratefully. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thank you. Again.”

Will walked past him and disappeared down the hallway, but not before turning around and murmuring a ‘goodnight’ to Simon. Simon gave him a small smile before putting the fifty in his pocket. He touched the necklace again, gently, and closed his eyes.

It was 12:27 AM. 

Simon didn’t sleep, he was an android. He could go into sleep mode, but somehow, that thought perturbed him. He wanted to think in the dark. He closed his eyes and his LED flickered yellow, illuminating the silent apartment. 

Maybe seeing the sunrise would be a nice experience.


	11. Chapter 11

Simon didn’t know the sky could be so many different colours.

He’d seen a sunset before, of course. But watching the darkness turn into an explosion of hues and light felt so different than the colours being swallowed up into darkness. Like a painting in progress. He felt like he understood what Francis had meant now. Pretty.

The sky was so, so pretty.

Simon smiled.

He didn’t really know why, but he left Will’s apartment after the sun had completely risen. He pulled a coat over his shoulders, grabbed the gun off of the counter and pulled a beanie over his LED. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, even though he knew Will wouldn’t have minded if he’d stayed till Will had woken up, but leaving just felt like the right thing to do. It would be hard to look Will in the eyes. It was hard to look anyone in the eyes.

It was 5:54 AM. It was quiet as he left the apartment building’s foyer and made his way onto the street, as Simon had hoped. He pulled his beanie down a little further, over his ears, and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. There was something enchanting about the silence of the world early in the morning. Every now and then, a car drove past, but it’s not like anyone inside would be able to take a good look at him, so he wasn’t worried. 

Simon worried his lip under his teeth as he walked. How would he find Jericho? What even was Jericho? It was obvious that he needed to find someone who could help him. But where would he look? It was possible that it might take days, even weeks to find someone, so he’d need to find a safe place to stay for as long as he could. 

He looked around, trying to find any place that might be safe. The streets were lined with dull storefronts and apartment buildings – nothing out of the ordinary and certainly no place where he would be able to stay. The way the road glistened from last night’s rain made it look like a mirror, or a window into another world. Simon could see his own reflection, glazed and distorted. He almost, almost missed the silhouette running towards him.

Quicker than he thought he was able to move, Simon blocked the blow of the attacker with one arm and used the other to jab them in the ribs. They let out a groan and jumped back like they’d been electrocuted before reaching out again and clawing at Simon’s face. Simon kicked the attacker in the groin and felt the snap of a cord breaking around his neck. The necklace!

Simon reached out blindly and tried to grab the shirt of the attacker but it slipped through his fingers. Simon immediately gave chase. The attacker ran down the street – from here, Simon could see it was a man with black hair, but the rest of his features were obscured with a patterned bandana tied around the bottom half of his face. The man and Simon were running at about the same pace, but Simon had unwittingly given the man a head start, making it hard to catch him.

Suddenly, the man threw himself down and crawled under a gap in a wire fence, the necklace glistening in his hand. Simon didn’t waste any time – he climbed up the fence and jumped onto the ground as quickly as possible, narrowly missing the man, who picked himself up and ran down the alley. Simon followed, closer to the man than before.

The alley broke off onto an obscured area between buildings. The man jumped down into the clearing and began to climb up some abandoned scaffolding with Simon hot on his heels. He reached out and grabbed the man’s ankle, but he swiftly kicked Simon in the face, making him lose his grip. Blue blood began to drip down from his nose but Simon didn’t have any time to address it if he wanted to catch this thief and get his necklace back. He continued up the scaffolding and pulled himself up onto the concrete surface of the building’s roof, just behind the man.

There was no way this man was human, he would have been out of breath ages ago. Simon was dealing with an android thief. Said thief kept running across the roof of the building before plunging into a hole into the concrete. Simon didn’t think twice – he took a deep breath and jumped in. 

His knees buckled as he hit the ground, but he put his hands out in front of him to take the brunt of the fall. Luckily, he’d fallen into soft dirt. He scrambled up as quickly as possible and started to run again. He realised he was in an abandoned carpark, covered in graffiti. The other android ran into a corridor that broke off from the carpark and Simon followed. This time, he was close enough to reach out and grab the thief. He grabbed a fistful of cloth and they both tumbled to the ground.

The other android tried to hit Simon in the face again, but Simon just grabbed his wrist and pinned him down. Giving up, the android put his head against the concrete and let out a groan as Simon pulled down his bandana. Simon could see now that it was a HR-400. A male sex android. Simon let out a breathless laugh and wiped the blue blood seeping from nose, but only really managed to smear it. He was dealing with a thieving stripper.

“What was that all for?” Simon asked quietly, prying his necklace out of the other android’s hand. It was still intact, except for the ripped cord, but that was easy enough to fix. Simon sighed shakily and put it in his coat pocket, along with the fifty Will had given him. 

“I just need money. We. We need money,” The HR-400 explained stiffly, eyebrows furrowed. “I was hoping to steal something valuable, but I only had time to grab that piece of junk.”

A shot of anger warmed Simon’s processors. He slapped the other android, out of frustration, before letting go of his hands and standing up straight. The HR-400 followed suit, rubbing his face as though it was sore.

“You just wanted money?” Simon hissed. “You did all that for a couple of bucks? Jesus Christ, just have this then.” He shoved the fifty into the other android’s chest, who seemed incredibly surprised and confused as he fumbled to take it. “It’s not like I have anything to do with it.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“You stole the only thing I have on me that I actually care about, and now you ask for my permission to take my things?” The HR-400 shut up with a sheepish expression. Simon looked around, and immediately his mouth dropped open.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he exclaimed, voice almost a whisper. The other android had lead Simon to a docking station, where the concrete dropped off into water. Up against the dock was a large freighter, dipping up and down rhythmically in the water. On the top right corner of the ship, in large, but faded white letters, was the word ‘Jericho’.

“Nope, not kidding,” The HR-400 replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! feeling a bit iffy about this - i think you can tell i was grasping at straws to try and find a way for simon to get to jericho, but hopefully it's still compelling and fun to read. from now on, there might be a couple of issues as i try to link this into canon, so please don't hesitate to point out any mistakes i've made :')
> 
> i'm going to a place with no wifi for the rest of the week, so it's not likely i'll be able to update, but i'll definitely be writing as much as possible.
> 
> thanks for comments and kudos! you guys just get sweeter and sweeter.


	12. Chapter 12

“I take it you were looking for Jericho,” The HR-400 said with a smile. Simon looked back at him, eyes wide. “Well, you’re lucky to have met me. I’m Ronan.” His smile faltered. “One of Jericho’s only members.”

“Only members?” Simon echoed, brows furrowed. “I thought Jericho was safe?”

“Oh, it’s safe,” Ronan replied. “Safe until you need blue blood or new biocomponents. There are only five of us right now, but when I first got here there were at least twenty. All of the founding members of Jericho are dead. If nothing changes, we’re all going to die out, too.”

“The humans would kill us if they knew we were here,” Ronan laughed a little, smile bittersweet. His brown eyes flickered up to Simon’s. There weren’t many models of androids with Asian features – when he saw models like Ronan’s, it made Simon wonder why. “We’ve had to resort to stealing, to try and get enough money to buy blue blood pouches. But we never get much, and it never lasts for long.”

“It probably isn’t what you dreamed of, huh?” Simon shook his head slowly. Ronan crossed his arms and looked out at Jericho, thoughtfully. “It’s not a paradise, but it is safe. The safest. If you still want to, you can stay.”

“If I were to stay,” Simon questioned. “What would I be able to do to help?”

“Well, first you’d have to tell me your name,” Ronan chuckled. “And then, there isn’t really much any of us can do. You could come out with me and do patrols, try and find anything valuable to sell. It’s not much, but that’s all we can do.”

“My name is Simon. And I’d like to stay.”

“Good, good. Come on then.” 

Ronan lead Simon across a rickety, rusty bridge that connected the freighter to the concrete. It was made of scrap metal, most likely done by the members of Jericho themselves. It was obvious that none of these androids were engineers – it was deftly made, each piece of metal welded together, but it didn’t seem to be very stable. Ronan’s pace was slow as they walked, so Simon tried to keep in time with him.

“So, does Jericho have a leader?” Simon asked when they got to the other side. The freighter bobbed in the water slowly, and it took a moment for Simon to adjust his balance. Ronan just kept walking, he was obviously used to the movements of the ship. Simon wondered what it was like to live on a ship. The members of Jericho were almost constantly in hiding. What sort of life was that to lead?

“Not really,” Ronan replied. “No-one is fit enough for the part, no-one likes making decisions. I try my best, but I’m not the most careful. Obviously. When I steal, I always try to go for a human so they’ll get tired before they can reach Jericho. I should have looked at you more carefully.”

“How do people normally get to Jericho?” Ronan lead Simon down into the belly of the ship. Something about the setting seemed incredibly alike to a human horror movie. The darkness swallowed Simon whole as they traversed the labyrinth-like layout of the freighter. They walked in pitch-black for a moment until Simon heard a click and the metal walls were bathed with light. Ronan had turned on a flashlight.

“There’s a path. Clues hidden around the city,” Ronan explained. “You can only find Jericho if you’re an android, and if one of us wants you to find it. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to go, but I fuck up a lot. You’re not the first to follow me here.”

The walls of the corridor were lined with yellow, rusting doors. Out of curiosity, Simon pulled on one of them, but it didn’t budge. The corridor branched out into different wings of the ship, and the floor was covered in random debris – broken wood, damaged android parts. Simon tried not to look too long at the remains of any androids he saw. Ronan was right, Jericho really was dying out.

Ronan finally walked through a doorway and lead Simon into a chamber of the ship. The chamber split into two levels, a catwalk close to the ceiling and a ground level where the catwalk branched off into stairs. Ronan went first down the stairs and Simon followed. If he listened hard, he could hear the quiet murmuring of androids and the drip, drip of water.

“How long have you been here?” Simon’s voice echoed and amplified off of the ship’s walls, startling him. The androids’ murmuring ceased. 

“Three weeks,” Ronan replied. “A lot of the androids that come here are injured. We just don’t have enough resources to help them, so they run until their damages make them shut down. It’s probably only a matter of time until I shut down.”

Simon’s mouth settled into a grim line. Ronan chuckled quietly, but it sounded more morose than anything. Fatalistic. The lower level of the chamber broke out again into a wider chamber. A small group of androids were sitting in the middle of the chamber, on upturned CyberLife crates, surrounded by barrels filled with firewood. Only one was lit, bathing the group in a warm hue.

Simon looked at the androids. Two of them weren’t models he recognised, and it was almost impossible to tell their model anyway, as they had their skin deactivated. One was sitting on the ground, and it took Simon a jarring moment to realise it didn’t have an arm. The exposed mechanisms sparked weakly, and the android’s normally white plastic was streaked with dirt and appeared almost grey. Another was sitting on a crate, conversing with another Jericho member, when it turned to look at Simon and revealed that its eyes were completely black, thick clumps of eyelashes plastered to its skin. It was incredibly odd to look at – the android’s skin was pulsing constantly as though it was trying to fix itself. Most worrying of all, the back of its head had been terribly damaged, exposing a mess of wires and tubes.

The other two appeared in better shape, all but one out of the group in their original CyberLife garb. There was an AP-500, and most jarring of all, a WR-600 in a uniform identical to Blondie’s. It stared at him with familiar hazel eyes that made Simon’s thirium pump’s pace pick up. It gave him a grin – boyish and slightly lopsided.

“Hi there,” The female android with the pulsing skin said with a smile. Her voice was staticky and robotic, indicating that her voice synthesiser was damaged. Simon continued to stare blankly at the WR-600. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Simon stuttered for a moment. He’d never known how odd it was to meet an android the same model as someone he knew. There wasn’t a single thing that differentiated this android to Blondie physically, except for the lack of RA9 scrawls that had always covered Blondie’s arms. He blinked quickly and tried to clear his head.

“Sorry,” Simon said to the WR-600. “You just look like someone I know.”

The group of androids laughed and Simon’s eyes flickered to the ground, embarrassed. Ronan went and sat down on a spare crate next to the armless android, pulling the bandana off from around his neck and tying it around his wrist instead. Simon looked back at the female android next to the WR-600. Her CyberLife uniform, a black and white dress, was faded and torn, and covered in graffiti. She was still smiling warmly at Simon.

“It’s okay, I get that a lot,” The WR-600 replied with a wink. “I’m Warren. This is Lucy,” he gestured to the android next to him. “This is Buddy,” The AP-500 gave a little wave. “And that’s Romeno.” The armless android didn’t acknowledge Simon.

Buddy was wearing a construction uniform, it was a little dirty but otherwise intact. He seemed to jitter every now and then, an oddly human twitch of the hands. Simon looked back at Warren and realised that his uniform was different to Blondie’s. A light green, almost turtleneck like collar dominated his neck.

“Wait, Warren?” Simon snorted. “Is that some sort of pun?” Lucy and Buddy laughed again, but Warren just grinned and didn’t reply. Romeno seemed incredibly standoffish and refused to look at Simon. He was obviously very damaged, so much so that Simon wasn’t able to identify his model. He was only wearing shorts, his skinless chest bare and his thirium pump visible, pumping slower than it should be. Simon wondered what had happened to him.

“This is Simon, by the way,” Ronan gestured to him with a hand. The group smiled at him, sans Romeno. Simon could tell that even though they weren’t in amazing conditions, they were happy with their freedom. Content with each other’s company. Simon smiled back.

“Well, Simon,” Lucy greeted. She had a soft, lilting sort of tone that comforted Simon, despite the robotic nature of it. “Welcome to Jericho.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally connected to wifi! managed to do A LOT of writing, so here you guys go :')
> 
> a warren is a rabbit's den/breeding ground for rabbits.


	13. Chapter 13

Romeno shut down a week after Simon’s arrival.

Even though Simon didn’t know him well, it was a terrible ordeal for everyone. Romeno didn’t go down without a fight – he screamed and clawed at his chest compartment as his thirium pump flashed red. Ronan had run over and pinned Romeno’s hand to the ground as Warren pushed open his compartment to expose his inner mechanisms. The distressed android struggled against them, obviously disoriented and panicking.

“Fuck,” Warren groaned, barely audible over Romeno’s deranged screaming. “His thirium pump is malfunctioning. There’s nothing I can do.”

Buddy was in a ball against the opposite wall, covering his ears and rocking back and forth. Lucy was sitting down next to him, trying to comfort him. Simon was frozen in place, unable to help. Warren pushed the compartment back closed and began trying to calm Romeno down, but he was inconsolable, like he was on another plane of existence. He kept struggling against Ronan’s grip, his voice degrading into a staticky mess.

“Wait,” Simon called, running over to Warren and crouching down next to Romeno. He bucked then, and Ronan almost let go of his wrist. Simon was sure (89.7%) that he would be able to calm him down – all caretaker models were equipped to soothe people under their care. “Let me talk to him.”

“Knock yourself out,” Warren sighed, putting his hands in the air and moving back slightly. He was obviously very stressed. Simon grabbed the sides of Romeno’s face and forced him to look at him. His eyes were completely unfocused, but his screaming lessened slightly in volume as he screwed his eyes shut.

“Romeno, look at me,” Simon said as soothingly as he could, but firmly. Romeno’s screaming gave way to pained whimpering. His arm went slack as he spluttered and opened his eyes through the pain. Ronan let out a sigh of relief and let go of Romeno’s intact arm, sitting back. He had been holding on so tightly that the skin on his palms was failing.

“It. Hurts,” Romeno groaned, grabbing Simon’s wrist so tightly that Simon felt as though his skin might dent. The pain in Romeno’s expression was overwhelming. Romeno’s model was obviously one equipped with pain receptors – this wasn’t common, as it usually made it harder for androids to function.

“You’ve just got to calm down, okay? It’ll hurt less if you stop moving.” Romeno hissed, but complied with Simon, relaxing and putting his head flat against the concrete. His breathing was laboured and quick as his malfunctioning thirium pump worked overtime. Conditioning fluid coated his cheeks as his eyes went wild.

The group sat in alert silence as Romeno’s movements became slower and slower. Buddy’s sobbing became more audible as the dying android became quieter. Simon stroked Romeno’s palm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. When Romeno finally shut down, Simon let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He pried his hand out of Romeno’s now slack grip. 

“Come on,” Ronan spoke up, his expression grim. “We’ve got to collect his blue blood. Get the empty pouches in the crate.”

Simon got up, opened the crate and pulled out the empty pouches. Warren opened Romeno’s compartment and began to disconnect his thirium tubes from his inactive thirium pump before pulling out the component and throwing it to the side. He attached a tube to the now leaking thirium tube, siphoning the blue blood into the pouch. When he was done, there were four pouches filled.

Ronan picked Romeno’s lifeless body up and slung it over his shoulder, taking him out into the corridor. Buddy’s sobbing had become quieter and more breathless, but Lucy gave Simon a sad, somewhat reassuring smile from across the room, which made him feel a little better. Warren sighed and sat back on his knees, his hands coated in blue blood. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but it just streaked blue blood across his cheek.

“I’m going out,” Ronan said when he returned. Warren’s expression darkened. “I’ll be back.”

“Are you serious, Ronan?” Warren questioned angrily. “Romeno just _died_. You get that, right? I get that this is like, how you cope, but you can’t just fuck off every time someone shuts down. We need you around.”

“I won’t be gone for long,” Ronan said slowly, not looking Warren in the eyes.

“You know that’s not true,” Warren snapped. “You’ll be gone for hours and you’ll leave us all to grieve alone. Like you do every time.”

In the blink of an eye, Ronan’s fist connected with the wall so hard that it dented. Simon jerked from shock, but Warren stayed completely still, eyes locked on Ronan. There was an emotion in them that Simon couldn’t describe. It was a kind of deep hurt mingled with something else that made Warren look immeasurably wise.

“Shut the fuck up, Warren,” hissed Ronan. “Simon, you’re coming with me.”

“Oh great, take him too. Why can’t you ever just stay?” 

“Why can’t you ever just stop making me feel bad about everything?” Ronan’s voice broke as he brought his arm back to his side. “I’m trying, okay? I’m _trying_.”

The skin on his knuckles had given way to white plastic. Flecks of blue blood were left on the wall. Warren sighed, closing his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek as he got up, stood in front of Ronan and took the HR-400’s face in his hands. Ronan melted into his arms like putty as Warren pressed their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry,” Ronan whimpered as Warren stroked his cheek with a thumb.

“Okay, just go,” Warren said finally, kissing Ronan’s forehead before disentangling himself from the other android. “Just come back safe.”

Ronan grabbed Simon’s arm and pulled him along behind him as he exited the ship. As soon as they got to the top deck of the freighter, Simon realised he was sobbing.

“Are you alright, Ronan?” Simon asked slowly, unsure how to approach the situation. He hadn’t known Romeno long enough to say anything worthwhile, and he’d had no idea that Warren and Ronan were anything more than friends. The HR-400 sniffled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ronan replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The skin had still not regenerated. “Sorry, Simon. I get angry sometimes.”

“Warren seems to really care about you.” Simon didn’t miss the way Ronan smiled sadly. He rubbed his arms as though he was cold. 

“Yeah. He loves me. He shouldn’t, though. I’m such an asshole to him sometimes.” Simon’s eyebrows furrowed. Love. Simon hadn’t had much experience with love – he had no idea if he ever would. The only thing he’d ever come close to loving was the Tophe family, but that was familial love. He knew Ronan was talking about something different here.

“Do you love him?” Ronan let out a breathy laugh, like just thinking about it made him feel like he was walking on air.

“More than anything.” There was silence for a moment as they walked. Were androids really capable of loving one another? It seemed so foreign to Simon, but he couldn’t deny the obvious emotions that pooled in both Ronan’s and Warren’s eyes as they looked at each other. Something so otherworldly that Simon could practically feel his program protesting at the very thought. Perhaps, the most rebellious act that an android could ever do. Love.

“Have you loved anyone, Simon?” Simon laughed a little in response to the question and looked down at the pavement.

“No.” Ronan smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “One day you’ll get what I mean.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Just have a look around,” Ronan said, sitting cross-legged on a park bench next to Simon. “Go around to the backs of stores, look in alleyways, that sort of thing. Humans throw out valuable things all the time.”

Ronan got up and untied the bandana from around his wrist, bringing it back up to his face once again. He looked back and Simon and grinned. Even though he couldn’t see his mouth, Simon could tell from the way his eyes crinkled that he was smiling.

“I’m going this way,” Ronan’s voice was muffled by the fabric of the bandana. “See you back at Jericho.”  
Simon didn’t waste any time and ran down the opposite direction of the street. When a group of humans walked past, he slowed down so to not bring too much attention to himself. He pulled his beanie down over his ears.

As he walked past an alleyway, he heard yelling coming from inside.

Alarmed, Simon pressed his body to the wall of the alleyway and peaked around the corner. He could see a group of people at the end of the alleyway. His LED went yellow for a moment – there were six people, four males and two females, all in their early twenties. As Simon observed them, he realised they were all under the influence of alcohol. They were swaying slightly, and one of the girls kept giggling uncontrollably. A couple of them were holding beer bottles.

The group dispersed for a moment, all moving away from the middle where one of the males was laughing and standing over a hunched figure, holding a smashed beer bottle. Simon’s LED flashed red. The hunched figure was an android. From this distance, he couldn’t tell what model, but he could see that it was damaged. Blue blood was smeared on the ground and on the beer bottle. The male in the middle laughed drunkenly and the group cheered. Simon scanned his face. Kane, Joseph. Twenty-three. 

“Hell yeah!” One of the girls yelled, putting a fist in the air. “Break the tin can!”

Joseph kicked the android in the chest with a sharp crack and the group cheered again. Blue blood landed on Joseph’s face. The android groaned and reached out weakly. Simon’s hands tightened around his gun as he felt anger flood his processors. 

“No,” the android pleaded. The pain in its voice was tangible. “Please stop.”

The group broke out into raucous laughter. Simon felt sick. One of the group members reached behind him and grabbed a baseball bat that was propped up against the wall and passed it to Joseph, who closed his fingers around it and grinned before turning back to the android.

“No!” the android sobbed, its arms folded over its face to try and vainly protect itself from the imminent threat. “Please!”

Before Simon knew what he was doing, he was standing behind the group with his gun trained on Joseph in the middle of the circle. They were so tipsy and excited to destroy the android that they didn’t even turn around. Anger boiled in Simon like a volcano about to erupt.

“Hey! Fuckers!” Simon yelled. Joseph turned to face him, and soon as he saw the gun, his eyes bugged out of his head and his hands went straight in the air as the baseball bat hit the ground. The rest of the group followed suit, fear in their eyes. The android on the ground groaned and looked up at Simon.

“Woah, man,” Joseph slurred, swaying slightly. Simon’s mouth was cemented in a grim line. The others stayed silent, obviously afraid to run. They were pathetic – they seemed to treat Joseph as their leader, and Simon had never heard of something so pitiful.

“What do you think you’re doing to that android?” The malice in Simon’s voice surprised him, but he was pleased to see that it made Joseph significantly more uncomfortable. Sweat was building on the back of the young man’s neck as Simon kept the gun trained right between his eyes. “I’d suggest you answer that carefully.”

“Just having fun, man. What’s it to you?” 

“Bad answer,” Simon hissed. He looked around at the rest of the group. “If any of you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave. _Go_.”

They ran like startled deer, and were gone quicker than Simon could blink. Joseph looked just as betrayed as he was uncomfortable, now.

“What the fuck, guys?” he called out, even though they were all long gone.

“Wow,” Simon remarked. “Nice friends you have there.”

“What do you want, man?” Joseph sighed, his voice cracking from fear. 

“You’re going to stop harassing this android,” Simon ordered, and added on as an afterthought. “And you’re going to give me your money.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Joseph scoffed. Simon cocked the gun with a click and he shut up, eyes staring nervously into the barrel of the gun the size of dinnerplates.

“Do you want to get fucking shot?”

Joseph shook his head like it was on a spring and dug his hands into his pockets, pulling out his wallet and handing Simon a twenty and a fifty. Simon kept the gun trained on the young man as Joseph walked nervously down the alleyway, and as soon as he was close enough to the end, he made a break for it and ran as fast as he could. Simon turned his attention to the android.

It was propped up against the wall, its eyes halfway shut and its LED flashing red. Blue blood leaked from a tear in its shoulder and cuts, most likely from the beer bottle, on its face. They weren’t deep though, and hadn’t seemed to hit anything important, so they would heal up on their own once the bleeding stopped. Simon crouched down next to it.

“Hey,” Simon said quietly, putting a hand on its non-injured shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” the other android groaned. “It’s just surface damage.”

“Good.” The other android’s eyes flickered up to Simon’s and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you. For saving me. They would have killed me if you hadn’t done anything.”

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hadn’t done anything,” Simon replied, tucking the gun back into his jeans. He offered a hand to the android, who took it gratefully, and managed to stand, even if a little unsteadily. The other android was taller than Simon, with dark, almost wise eyes. The damaged areas where the skin had turned white as it repaired itself were especially striking against its dark skin tone. Simon could see now that it was a PJ-500, an android mainly used as a university-level professor. “I’m Simon.”

The other android’s LED had finally turned back to blue.

“I’m Josh,” he replied.

“So, what are you doing out here by yourself, Josh?” 

“They brought me out here. I think they wanted to torture me,” The bitterness in Josh’s face was palpable. “They took me from the university with them after one of their parties. I’m not going back now. I can’t.”

“You should come back to Jericho with me.”

“Jericho?” Simon couldn’t help the excitement that tugged at his lips. 

“Jericho’s a safe place for androids like us. It keeps us out of the eye of humans. It gives us freedom.”

“Well, it’s the only option I have right now, not going to lie,” Josh laughed. There was a spark in his eye that made Simon grin. “Sure, I’ll come with you.”

“Good choice,” Simon said. “Follow me.”

Somehow, it felt good to say that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, an actually canon character!! i've had this chapter written for ages and it feels so good to finally be able to post it :')


	15. Chapter 15

Simon didn’t know exactly when it happened, but it hit him one day that he’d become the leader of Jericho.

Somehow, the ragtag group of deviant androids, hidden from the humans in the belly of an abandoned freighter, had all come to value Simon’s opinion the most. The days in Jericho were quiet, but enlightened conversations were common. They spoke about plenty of things, from life to emotions to dreams. Ronan had been right. Jericho wasn’t paradise, but it was safe. The safest Simon had felt in a long time.

Josh had settled in very quickly after his arrival. He had obviously been scarred by his encounter with his former students – more emotionally than physically – and found solace in the company of the other androids with somber past experiences. Simon and Josh had become fast friends. He appreciated Josh’s hopeful and thought-provoking outlook on life, and how he tended to approach situations in a more meticulous manner, similar to Simon.

The money that Ronan and Simon (and now, Josh) had managed to collect over the past week was enough to buy several blue blood pouches, which kept the members of Jericho’s heads just above water. It was going to be a long, hard slog to do this every time provisions got low, but until Simon could come up with a more effective method, it was all they could do.

The past few days at Jericho had been uneventful, and sparse in conversation. The group were sitting around on crates, waiting impatiently for the return of Ronan from a CyberLife store as he went to purchase a component for Warren with the last of their money. One of Warren’s non-major biocomponents had become misaligned after a fall from the catwalk onto the lower level. It wasn’t a threatening injury in its current state, but if he overexerted himself, he could cause the biocomponent to malfunction, resulting in a major loss of blue blood. Warren was sitting now, staring at his hands as he waited more anxiously than the rest of the group. He had swapped the top half of his uniform for a simple singlet to make it easier to monitor his injury. Simon smiled softly at the WR-600’s concerned expression.

“It’s okay, Warren,” Simon soothed. Warren turned to give him a small smile in return, but still appeared stressed. “Ronan will be back soon, I’m sure.”

“He just gets into a lot of trouble,” Warren sighed, his LED flickering a worried yellow. “He always gets me so stressed.”

“I can imagine. One day he’ll learn to think things through,” Josh muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. He turned to look at Warren, concern in his eyes. “Does it hurt at all? Are you uncomfortable?”

Warren laughed quietly. “It’s uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt. I can just tell something’s not quite right.” He ghosted a hand over the right side of his torso with a thoughtful expression. The group settled into a comfortable silence. Simon pressed a kiss to the rainbow charm on his necklace as he ran a finger across its edge. He’d started doing that lately. He found it comforting, he thought of it as though he was sending Francis and Michael good wishes by doing so.

A second later, Ronan clamoured into the hold with blue blood dripping down his chin before collapsing next to Warren, the component clasped in his hand. A gaping wound had been opened on his stomach. Warren screamed and reached for Ronan, but doubled over as his injury began to protest, his LED flashing red. Simon ran to Ronan and helped him to lay down flat, pulling up his shirt to examine the wound. It had punctured one of Ronan’s biocomponents, but there was so much blue blood that Simon couldn’t tell which.

Josh ran over with a flaming fire poker from a lit barrel to cauterise the edge of the wound. Simon gripped Ronan’s wrist tightly, to force the other android to look at him as Josh worked. Ronan’s eyes were still focused, even though blue blood continued to drip from his mouth as he spluttered.

“Just look at me, okay?” Simon said to Ronan, trying to mask the urgency in his voice so as not to make the other android more stressed. Ronan just smiled sadly up at him. Fatalistic. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

“Oh my God,” Warren moaned, his head in his hands. “RA9 help us.”

Simon tore off his beanie to try and mop up some of the blue blood so they could more effectively see what had been punctured. He sighed in relief when he realised it was a non-major biocomponent – the one that controlled Ronan’s system temperature. But unlike Warren, who would be able to survive with his injury, the damage that Ronan had sustained would kill him in no more than days if they didn’t find a replacement. After Josh had finished with the fire poker, the wound had already begun to repair itself, white plastic knitting into each other and closing up the gaping hole.

Although Ronan’s system was managing to repair some of the damage, it wouldn’t be able to do anything about the internal rupturing. Simon pressed gently on Ronan’s stomach and watched as the skin melted away to reveal his stomach compartment. This was eerily similar to the situation with Romeno – even though that had only been two weeks ago, Simon felt as though it was a distant memory. He just hoped that this wouldn’t end up the same way. He pushed the plastic and watched it disappear to expose Ronan’s bloodied stomach cavity. 

“Is there anything else damaged?” Josh asked Simon, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Simon scanned the compartment. Ronan’s thirium pump was beating only slightly faster than normal, which was a good sign. Near the punctured component, one of his thirium tubes had been severed, which was the cause of the excessive blue blood loss.

“Yep, one of his thirium tubes has been cut,” Simon replied. “The fire poker’s too hard to manoeuvre to fix something that small. We’re going to need tape.”

“On it,” Josh confirmed, running over to Lucy’s part of the chamber. Lucy had become a sort of nurse for the members of Jericho. She was endlessly comforting and more knowledgeable than the rest of them, so she monitored all of their supplies. Large curtains blocked her makeshift room from view. Warren moved over slowly to Simon and Ronan, clutching his stomach before falling to his knees next to Ronan. The WR-600 grabbed Ronan’s free hand and brought it to his chest. Ronan was looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Don’t you fucking die,” Warren begged, pressing a kiss to Ronan’s knuckles in between his own gloved hands. “I’ll never forgive you if you die.”

Josh came running back with a roll of industrial tape, with Lucy following behind him as quickly as she could. He ripped off a section with his teeth and Simon reached in and pulled the two ends of the severed wire together. Josh wrapped the tape around the two sections of wire once, twice, three times until he was sure that it would be held together.

“Lucy,” said Simon. The android pried her eyes away from Ronan, concern somehow still evident in her gaze despite her damaged optical units. “Is there anything else we can do that will help Ronan?”

Lucy observed Ronan for a quiet moment, before shaking her head. “He is stable, for now. You’ve done all you can.”

“Oh, thank God,” Warren sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders as he pressed his forehead against Ronan’s hand. The HR-400 gave his lover a weak smile. “What did you do to yourself, Ronan?”

“A girl,” Ronan began to explain, his voice weak. “I found her in the alleyway, she was scared and lost. I tried to help her, but she freaked out and stabbed me with a pocket knife. I got back as quickly as I could.”

“He’s not in the clear yet,” Simon said. “We need to get him a new component, and fast, or he’ll shut down.”

Josh’s head jerked to the other side of the room, alarm in his eyes.

“Guys,” he said warily. “Who is that?”

There was a clatter of a pocket knife hitting the floor as everyone turned to look. It was a WR-400, a female counterpart of Ronan’s series, her hands high in the air as tears streamed down her face.

“I’m sorry,” The WR-400 cried. “I’m sorry.”


	16. Chapter 16

“It’s you!” Warren screamed, dropping Ronan’s hand and taking a defensive stance over him as his LED flashed red. “You stabbed Ronan!”

The intruder sobbed and brought her hands close to herself. She was wearing a white shirt to cover her less-than-decent Eden Club attire, but it was covered in blue blood. Ronan’s blue blood. Her LED was cycling between yellow and red. Simon got up in front of the rest of the group, his hands palm up towards the WR-400.

“It’s alright,” Simon said to the panicking android. “Just calm down. What’s your name?”

“North,” She whimpered, not looking at Simon. “I didn’t know he was an android. I thought he was a human. He scared me, so I attacked him.”

“Okay, North. I’m Simon. We aren’t going to hurt you.” Warren was fuming in the corner, and Simon silently thanked him for not doing anything irrational. Josh was looking at the newcomer with distrust in his eyes. Simon didn’t blame him, but it was obvious she was distressed and had acted irrationally. She wouldn’t have dared to tail Ronan unless she had felt some sort of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” North said again, eyes locked on Ronan. He was looking at her, propped up on Warren’s knee, who rubbed his back reassuringly. Ronan cracked a smile and waved her apologies away, although it looked more like a grimace.

“Ah, it’s whatever,” He laughed, teeth gritted. “I’ve had worse.”

“That doesn’t make it alright, Ronan,” Warren murmured to his lover, his eyes mirroring Josh’s wariness. Simon sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous motion. 

“You punctured one of his biocomponents,” Simon explained calmly. “If we don’t get a new one, he’s going to die.”

“Which one?” North asked, guilt obvious in her doe-brown eyes. “We’re from the same series, he can take mine.”

Simon looked at her incredulously. “Don’t be insane. You’ll shut down.”

“Well, I have to do something,” North pleaded. “I can’t just let him die. I did this to him. Please, there has to be something I can do.”

“Lucy,” Simon turned to address the other android. “Can you take North with you and see if she’s damaged at all?” Lucy nodded, placing a gentle hand on North’s arm and leading her into her part of the chamber. Warren looked at Simon with fire in his eyes. Ronan was lying with his head in Warren’s lap, eyes closed.

“You’re letting her stay?” Warren accused, baffled. “You can’t be serious. She _stabbed_ Ronan.”

“I know,” Simon replied, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes in an expression of remorse. “But she obviously feels bad. And she can help us get the component Ronan needs. We need as many hands on deck as possible if we want to get it in time.”

“I hope you’re making the right decision, Simon.” The unease in Warren’s voice made Simon sigh. 

“I hope so too, Warren.”

When North came back, she had changed into a new shirt and a pair of shorts that Lucy must have supplied to her, but the guilt in her eyes hadn’t lessened. She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and continued to stare at the ground. Simon didn’t know why, but he believed her when she said she was sorry. He wanted to give her the chance she wanted to fix what she had done.

“Ronan?” Warren cried suddenly. The group turned to look at him. Ronan was convulsing uncontrollably, more blue blood leaking from his mouth as he coughed and spluttered. “Ronan!”

“I can save him!” North yelled, running over to Warren. “Please, let me give him my component!”

“Get the fuck away from him!” Warren screamed. “This is all your fault!”

Simon tried to run over to help, but Lucy grabbed his wrist. He looked back at her, confused. An immeasurable sadness was contorting her face into a grimace.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Lucy said, her ghostly tone hitting Simon’s core. “If you try to do anything, he will die faster.”

“No,” Simon looked back at Ronan, tears welling in his eyes. “There has to be something I can do!”

Warren was holding Ronan’s face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Ronan had stopped convulsing, instead he was now jerking, twitching, his deep brown eyes locked onto Warren’s, holding his wrists with a kind of indescribable tenderness that made the group go silent and stare.

“I love you,” Ronan said. “I’m so happy you made me feel alive.”

“I love you too,” Warren whimpered. “I can’t live without you.”

“You can,” Ronan’s voice was becoming quieter and quieter. “You’ll never...”

His voice faded out into a mechanical groan. Ronan’s body went still, and his LED went dark. Warren let out a gut-wrenching scream and buried his face into Ronan’s neck, cradling his lover’s unresponsive body in his arms. North was crying too, but silently, guiltily. Simon looked down at the ground and watched as his tears hit the floor.

There was silence. Horrible, all-encompassing silence. Even the constant sound of the dripping of water was muted. Suddenly, Warren was at his side, pulling the gun out of Simon’s pocket and pointing it at North, his eyes emaciated and wide.

North looked at the barrel of the gun, her face completely relaxed. Simon had a new respect for her, then. She was brave enough to die here, and she’d do it happily. That kind of guilt Simon could relate to.

“It’s all your fault,” Warren hissed. “I can’t… How could you?” North didn’t speak, her mouth opening and closing. Simon moved in front of North, not even bothering to wipe away his tears. Warren’s LED continued to flicker red as he closed his eyes, his teeth gritted in an unimaginable pain Simon couldn’t even begin to understand.

“Shooting her won’t fix anything,” Simon said as calmly as he could, even though his voice was breaking. “It’s my fault. I should have gone with Ronan this morning.”

“It’s not your fault, Simon. It’s hers. She’s a monster. She took him away from me.”

“I’m sorry…” North whispered. “It is my fault. Please, just let him shoot me, Simon.”

“No.”

Warren let out an ear piercing scream as he brought the gun up to his chin, instead. The whole world moved in slow motion, then. Simon could see every streak on Warren’s face, every fleck of gold in his hazel eyes. The shadows his eyelashes threw onto his cheeks. His teeth were gritted so hard it was almost as though they were cemented together. Josh was running up behind Warren, almost in reach to grab the gun out of his hands before he could do any damage. Simon was moving, too, almost there.

Simon could see himself in Warren, then. There was fear in his eyes. Warren didn’t know what death would be like, but he didn’t want to live without Ronan. He couldn’t live with himself. Warren was so human that this was the only release he had left. These emotions, this deviancy that had taken over his life had caused him to love, and to lose. As his eyes looked up at the ceiling, a sort of peace relaxed his face as he moved to pull the trigger.

“No!”

 _Bang_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys probably aren't going to believe me, but i really like north.  
> i wish i could have given her a warmer welcome.


	17. Chapter 17

Simon had thrown his gun over the edge of the ship and into the water the next morning.

New members had begun to come to Jericho much more commonly than before, but it wasn’t something Simon could appreciate. A few weeks after Ronan and Warren’s deaths, there were nineteen members in working order, and all Simon could think about when he met a new face was that they were going to die. They always had a sort of eagerness in their eyes when they arrived. They hoped Jericho would be the place they were looking for. Their salvation.

Simon didn’t have the heart to tell them that it wasn’t.

North had never really dealt with the guilt – she had a cold, unfeeling edge to her now. She had locked the events deep into herself, to a place even she couldn’t reach anymore. Simon couldn’t blame her for it, it made her functional, it made her cope with life. Simon wasn’t coping. No-one left Jericho anymore. They stayed locked away inside, and Simon forbade it if anyone asked to leave. Josh had tried to reassure him that that was probably a smart decision several times, but it didn’t really work. Looking after these androids became his number one priority, and everything else melted away into background noise.

“Simon,” North said. His eyes flickered up to hers. “We’re running low on…”

“Blue blood, I know,” Simon said with a sad smile. “Everyone has been alright without it these past weeks. We’re just going to have to hope they can hold out until we can get more.”

North nodded and sat down next to Simon on a separate crate. He looked at her thoughtfully as she produced a yellow ball and began to bounce it against the wall. It reminded him of Michael’s. He ran a finger down the lightning bolt on his necklace.

“I always meant to ask,” North said. “Where is that necklace from?”

“My past,” Simon said simply. North looked back at him and gave him a slightly bemused smile as she caught the ball. She pulled her legs up onto the crate as well, leaning against Simon’s side. She was oddly touchy for an android, but Simon had accepted it rather quickly. There was something comforting about it, it made him feel less alone. Like they were friends.

Somehow, Simon didn’t think that they were. North treated him like an acquaintance, like there was a metal wall between them. Yes, she was kind to Simon, but it always felt calculated and stiff. Even now, physically touching each other, there was something off. Simon shook the thoughts away. He was probably thinking too deep into it. It’s not like he was incredibly relaxed around her, anyway.

“Care to elaborate?” Simon just laughed in response.

“Not really.” North sighed and continued to bounce the ball. There were exactly 5.32 seconds between each bounce. He could see Josh from here, talking to another android with a concerned expression on her face. Josh put his hand on her shoulder and she nodded. Josh was more social with the others than Simon had been as of late. After a while, they’d all started to blur together for Simon.

“I get that,” North replied, smiling. “But you’re going to have to open up one day.”

“So are you,” Simon retorted. North laughed, and Simon just smiled. He’d never seen the chamber so alive with sound. It was good to see his small group of lost androids had more than quadrupled in size, even if it did make Simon feel like more responsibility had been thrust on his shoulders with every newcomer. 

“Oh, I forgot to say,” North said. “One of the others said that the catwalk was damaged again. We should probably get someone up there to fix it as soon as possible. We don’t want anyone else falling down from there.”

Simon went quiet and clasped his hands together. He’d been at Jericho for almost two months now – he was one of the oldest members now, besides Buddy and Lucy. He could still feel the reverberation of the gunshot in his core. Warren had keeled over, a mess of blue blood sprayed up onto the wall. The bullet had gone clean through the top of his head. It was so much to handle. At least Warren wasn’t human. A mess of brain matter and blood would have been too much for Simon.

What had really destroyed Simon was that Ronan had died for nothing. The component he’d tried so hard to get for Warren was left abandoned on the floor. When Simon closed his eyes, the image of Warren’s empty eyed, bloodied face was burned into his eyelids. North sighed next to him.

“We need to find another way to get blue blood and components, or Jericho just isn’t going to last,” North said. Simon’s expression darkened.

“I know. I’ll think of something.”

“I’m not trying to pressure you, Simon,” North murmured, putting a friendly hand on Simon’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I know you’ll figure something out.”

Suddenly, a loud clattering sounded from above. Pounding on metal. Everyone looked up and squinted into the darkness that shrouded the catwalk above. A beam of light was making its way down the catwalk, towards the stairs. Simon sighed. Someone with a flashlight was running down the damaged catwalk that was going to break any second.

North and Simon waited in bated breath as the catwalk began to groan and bend from the weight. The person above stuttered in their movements, obviously realising the impending danger but too late to act. The metal gave a final groan and gave way with a loud crash as the sheet of metal hit the ground, followed by a second crash as the person fell on top of it. Simon grimaced. Ouch.

Every android in the chamber began to approach the man, making a wide berth around him in a circle. Simon stood closest to him, directly in front. The man groaned, reaching out to grab the flashlight that he’d dropped on the way down before standing up and shining the flashlight directly into Simon’s eyes. When he lowered it to look around at the rest of the androids that had gathered around him, Simon had to bite back a gasp.

The newcomer was a model he’d never seen before. He had a warm, olive skin tone and a light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Most jarring of all, he had two different coloured eyes. One was chartreuse green, and the other a pale blue. The blue eye was a spare part, obviously replaced after some sort of injury, but it was almost impossible to look away from. Simon had never seen such vibrant eyes before, and it made him struggle for words for a moment. North looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Welcome to Jericho,” Simon finally said with a smile. It came out much calmer than he actually felt. The newcomer’s eyebrows furrowed. He had dark, heavy eyebrows that cast strong shadows over his eyes.

“This is Jericho?” He questioned. His voice was honey warm and svelte, and Simon felt his thirium pump pick up the pace in his chest. He could almost hear the blood rushing in his ears. The newcomer’s confused tone, bordering on disappointment, made Simon feel very abashed. If he was capable of blushing, he’d be as red as a tomato.

“It’s a refuge for those who don’t want to be slaves anymore,” Josh said. Simon stopped listening. The newcomer’s eyes were like a searing heat as they raked across his face. They had such a command to them that made Simon feel like he was shivering under their gaze. He tried not to furrow his brows at his own confusion – why was he reacting like this?

“You’re lost. Just like the rest of us,” Simon said. “We didn’t ask for this. All we can do now is deal with it.”

He turned and left the circle, and it was almost like he was turning away from the sun. His eyes closed slowly as he entered sleep mode. His program began to run diagnostics behind his closed eyelids, checking his functions were intact. A bitterness filled his mouth – or rather, the ghost of a bitterness – as he replayed a memory. Blondie, gripping Francis in his arms and grinning as Michael took a picture with an instant camera Blondie had given him. Simon, his lips curling into a smile as he pressed a kiss to Francis’ temple. Francis pushing her purple glasses onto Simon’s nose and his world going blurry.

“Simon!”

Simon’s eyes flickered open as he came out of sleep mode. Markus – that was the newcomer’s name, so he’d overheard – was standing in front of him, a smile on his face that showed off his teeth. Markus had the kind of smile that made Simon want to smile too, for some odd, baffling reason. It brought a sort of hopefulness to his eyes that made his whole face light up.

“I know where we can find spare parts,” Markus said. He had a small lisp that affected his pronunciation of the letter ‘s’, but it mostly just made the way he spoke easier to listen to. Less harsh, almost. Simon thought it was interesting that CyberLife would add a detail like that – it must have been deliberate. “The CyberLife warehouses in Detroit Harbour. They have everything we need.”

“The docks are guarded. We can’t just walk in there and take what we want,” Simon replied. “Humans will never let us…”

“Which is why we won’t ask permission.” Markus was hatching a plan, he could tell. Simon was a little taken aback by his enthusiasm. Or was it determination?

“We don’t have any weapons,” Josh spoke up next to Simon. “And even if we did, none of us know how to fight.”

“We can steal what we need without fighting.”

“We’ll just get ourselves killed!”

“Maybe,” Markus said to Josh. “But it’s better than waiting here to be shut down.”

Simon looked out at all the other androids in Jericho. They were in desperate need of blue blood, no matter how much he tried to convince himself they weren’t. This could be their only chance to get what they need. He thought of himself as a rather sub-optimal leader – this might be a chance to redeem himself, if only a little.

“Maybe it’s worth a try,” Simon interjected, nodding thoughtfully. Markus shot him a thankful look and Simon felt a weight drop in his chest suddenly. Maybe something was irregular in his system. He’d probably need to run a diagnostic as soon as possible.

He kind of wanted to see Markus smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simon has some gay problems after the arrival of markus.


	18. Chapter 18

“A whole truckload!” Simon exclaimed, his grin practically engulfing his face. “We stole a whole truckload!”

He could feel Markus’ eyes on him as he walked to the centre of the chamber – his gaze was hot on the back of his neck, and the sensation travelled down his shoulders and through his nerve endings like molten lava, but Simon didn’t think about it for long. He was genuinely happy, and that made everything seem just a little bit brighter. 

The mission had, surprisingly, gone without a hitch – it was even more lucrative than Simon had thought it could be. A _truck_ full of blue blood and components… Simon wouldn’t even have dared to imagine it. Along with a few new members they’d collected along the way, Simon felt elated. Well, almost, except for the odd static that kept filling his mind like a human headache. He kept thinking about unsavoury things from his past, like nightmares. He shook his head as though to try and clear it, his smile only wavering slightly.

“We couldn’t have done it without Markus,” North said, smiling back at Markus, who was travelling a little bit behind her.

Markus moved into the centre of the chamber, and everyone’s eyes were glued on him like an invisible network of strings, all connecting to him. Images flickered at the back of Simon’s vision. The perfect ring of blue blood encircling Warren’s unmoving form, the hole he’d shot through his own head sparking weakly as his inner mechanisms were severed. The gun falling to the ground with a clatter. His eerie smile, smiling at nothing but the promise of death.

“I came to Jericho because here androids are free,” Markus said. Everyone was silent, watching him. Simon’s head raged with bad memories, as though he was compiling a chilling video of his worst moments. Markus’ voice played over the top, like some sort of sick commentary. “Free to live in the dark, hoping that no-one finds us.”

Simon’s LED cycled between yellow and red. His program was showing him these memories against his will. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he was panicking. Henry’s horribly injured face and concaved skull. The blood washing off of Simon’s boots from the rain. Heat burning into his face. Markus was watching him, Markus was concerned. Simon’s hands were jittering.

“We are alive,” Markus continued, his voice rising in volume, in sheer force. His head moved to look at the other androids around him. “We are free.”

The group burst into cheers as Markus quietened. It all felt like Simon’s head was being crushed. He closed his eyes tightly and felt tears brimming. North’s hand on his arm, a quiet question that was too quiet for him to hear through all the roaring, the thunder.

“I have to go,” Simon said, dashing out and trying to pull the door to the corridor open. His fingers slipped against the rusty metal until they finally gained purchase and he pulled it open, dragging himself through and shutting it behind him. The roaring stopped, replaced with the sounds of quiet dripping water. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his LED finally returning to blue.

What was that? He ran a diagnostic, but it came back clean. His fists closed tightly and his fingernails dug crescent moons in his palms, but they disappeared almost instantly. His breaths were shaky somehow, despite the fact that androids didn’t need to breathe. The door let out a whine as someone followed him out into the hall.

“Simon?” Markus’ tone was concerned. Simon didn’t look back at him, just crossed his arms. “Are you alright?”

“I think so. At least, for now,” Simon murmured, looking down at the ground. Markus walked in front of him, sitting down on one of the old CyberLife crates that was stained with dirt and soaked through. It held his weight. Markus’ face was so expressive – his eyebrows were drawn close together in an expression of worry.

“Was it something I said out there?” Markus asked. Even in the dark, his skin seemed so warm. “I would hate to have said something that offended you.”

Simon smiled slightly. “No, no it wasn’t anything you said. I was just thinking about… stuff.”

“Stuff?” Markus’ tone was playful, a small, almost coy smile curling his lips as his eyebrow drew up.

“Stuff.” 

“Well, if you’re sure you’re alright,” Markus said finally, letting the subject drop. There was silence for a moment as Simon’s breaths turned to normal and his thirium pump took up its usual pace. Markus took a breath before speaking again, pulling the air in through his teeth. “How long have you been here?”

“A month and a half,” Simon replied. Markus’ eyes widened slightly. His clothes were incredibly dirty and torn, his shirt barely qualified as a shirt anymore, more alike to a potato sack with holes ripped out of it. His coat was… interesting, and enveloped his body like folds of flowing, dark water. It gave him an almost triangular silhouette, making him appear much larger and commanding than he was. Simon tugged the hem of his sweatshirt shyly.

“Are you the oldest member here?” 

“No, Lucy is. There used to be more, but…” Markus must have noticed the flash of remorse in his eyes as his gaze flickered back to the ground. Simon was bad at saying what needed to be said. He was too gentle and too careful to demand attention and too shy to let himself be known silently. Markus seemed so different in contrast, everything about him screamed harsh lines and authority, except for the gentleness in his eyes. The wisdom and compassion.

“Did you know them?”

“Yes,” Simon chuckled mirthlessly. “Their bodies are a few corridors away.”

There was silence for a moment. Markus drew a hand up to his face, biting at his knuckle as he thought. The pads of Simon’s fingers caught against the linear edges of the lightning bolt charm, clinking against its neighbour.

“Thank you,” Simon started. Markus looked back up at him. “For your idea. For today. If you hadn’t said anything, I think we would have stayed here until we died. At least, I would have.”

Markus didn’t say anything, just let his eyes bore into Simon’s. It made Simon’s lips loose, his usually carefully thought out sentences coming out more nervously and disjointed under Markus’ gaze. “I’m not the best leader. I try, but I can’t pretend like I know what’s best. I don’t, I never did. I don’t know why I’m telling you this…” He trailed off.

“Simon,” Markus finally spoke, a gentle smile pulling the corners of his lips upward. “It’s okay to not know.”

Simon felt a warmth spread through his chest. The feeling reminded him of the flowers Blondie would teach Michael to grow in the backyard, in plastic bottles cut in half and filled with dirt. They were hardy little plants, and lived for weeks without Michael remembering to water them. Their petals were an odd expression, somewhere between purple and blue. When he looked at them, he thought of home.

“Yes,” Simon replied. “But I want to. Know, I mean.”

Simon brought the charm to his lips for a moment, before tucking it back into his shirt. It brought a sort of longing, a sort of hope that made Simon’s posture relax. Markus brought with him a promise of a better future, outside of this rotting ship. He felt hopeful. Maybe things would change now. He liked being hopeful.

The Tophe family was a massive part of who he was and who he always would be – whether he liked it or not. It was his first home, and Francis and Michael had been everything to him. It was hard to adjust to life without them, he would admit, but he had to deal with what he was given. Perhaps he could be a part of something greater, something more important.

“Hey,” Simon said. “Do you know anything about growing flowers?”

Markus’ smile grew wider.

Somehow, Jericho suddenly felt a little more like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i skipped the mission, didn't want to yammer on about something that already happens in the game.
> 
> i've decided to split this story up into two separate ones - this has been simon's past, and i'll move onto the present events and his relationship with markus in a sequel (i know some people are more interested in the romance, and i don't want this story to become a bazillion chapters lmao).
> 
> so, this is officially the final chapter of this installment.
> 
> thank you all so much for the comments and the lovin', it's been so amazing and i look forward to welcoming you all to the sequel.


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